


I Won’t Fall Unless You Ask Me To

by epicfrenchfry, Megalomaniacal



Series: sick of living in the eye of the storm [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Death, Drug Use, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Murder, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Violence, Whipping, at least we tried to, we promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 84
Words: 285,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicfrenchfry/pseuds/epicfrenchfry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalomaniacal/pseuds/Megalomaniacal
Summary: "If you don't want me to do anything, I promise I won't, but it's not okay. You deserve better than him."Theon is kicked out by his dad after coming out as bisexual, and finds a new home in the Stark house, but if he's learned anything in life, it's that good things never last.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is 16 in this as opposed to 11 or 13, Theon is 18, Ramsay is 19, Jon and Robb and Ygritte are 18, Arya is 11, Bran is 10, and Rickon is 6. Yara is 21.

Theon Greyjoy had run away many times before, but never like this. It was always just grabbing a bag and enough stuff for one night- or a couple, in rare situations- but it was never, never packing up all his stuff. He was shaking as he threw open his dresser drawers, cramming his things into a worn out duffel bag, not caring to fold them. He was in a rush. ‘If you’re not gone within the hour, I’ll kill you myself,’ Balon had said. While normally Theon had no problem talking back, the look in his father’s eyes told him it was no empty threat. The hatred in his father’s voice had been thick and dark, unforgiving. Even Yara, Balon’s prized golden child, hadn’t dared to intervene.

Theon was never close to his family, no, but it still hurt. He knew his dad would never be proud of him, but he at least hoped he’d be tolerated, cared for to even the smallest degree. He told his father the one thing he was most terrified to tell him, and he’d instantly regretted it. He had a large red handprint on the side of his face to prove why, even if the words that really hurt him weren’t also visible.

‘You are no son of mine,’ Balon had spat as he’d slapped Theon across the face, not even the tiniest sliver of caring in his eyes. Theon had tried to stand his ground, he really had, but he couldn’t do it for long. And so he was packing away everything he owned.

He was working as quickly as possible, forcing everything he owned into the duffel bag and a drawstring bag he’d found at the back of his closet. His heart pounded as he packed, scared to linger too long. He shoved his blankets and pillows in as well, phone in one pocket of his jacket and a bag of weed in the other. He did a quick look around his room to make sure he had everything before slinging the duffel over his shoulder, throwing the drawstring on his back, and hurrying out of the Greyjoy house as quickly as he could.

He should’ve texted Robb before going over to the Starks, and he knew that, but in his hurried panic he hadn’t thought to. The Stark’s house wasn’t too far away but it was pouring rain out and Theon was soaked by the time he reached their porch, standing in front of the door under the roof. He knocked three times, swallowing hard and praying to the Drowned God that Robb would be the one to answer the door.

Muffled voices could be heard inside, and a moment later, the door swung violently open to reveal the sullen face of Arya Stark. She looked him up and down, scowling, hands tucked into the pockets of her baggy jeans.

"What do you want? We're eating dinner." Before Theon could answer, she sneered at him. "If you're here for Robb, I don't think he wants to see you. He's still mad at you about that girl from the other day."

Theon paused for a moment, dread and embarrassment bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want anyone seeing him like this- vulnerable and scared, standing out on their doorstep like a wet dog. He scowled at her words, eyebrows furrowing, trying to think of what girl Arya could be talking about. He talked to Robb every day, and Robb didn’t ever mention being mad at him.

“Come on, Ary. I’m not here to argue with you on the porch, can you just go get Robb?” He reached up a hand, pushing wet strands of hair back out of his face. He was still trembling, be it from the cold or from the situation he was running from, and he only hoped it wasn’t visible.

"No." Arya slammed the door shut in his face and returned to the dining room. Her father, Ned, looked up upon her return.

"Who was it?"

"Door-to-door salesman," Arya replied with a shrug. "Don't worry about it." She picked up her fork and dug into her plate of blackened salmon.

Theon stared at the door in shock for a moment. He didn’t know what else to expect from the young Stark, but he was still a bit offended. He knocked again, three times, hearing one of the Stark’s massive dogs bark inside as response. It was embarrassing enough to be on their doorstep soaking wet, and having to knock repeatedly didn’t help. He didn’t want to risk taking his phone out into his wet hands and ruining it, and he sure wasn’t about to smoke weed to pass the time. He shifted uncomfortably, knowing that if he wasn’t able to stay with the Starks, he’d have to find somewhere else to go.

The problem was, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Sure, there was Jeyne Poole, Sansa’s friend who had had a crush on him since forever, but he hadn’t talked to her since they got drunk and fucked around a few months back. Kyra was an option too, but she was mad at him for rejecting her offer to be his girlfriend, and they also hadn’t talked in a few months. He waited for a few minutes in silence before trying his luck at knocking again, promising himself he wouldn’t wait any longer if no one answered this time.

At the sound of persistent knocking, Robb pushed his chair back from the table and stood with a weary sigh. "Probably the salesman again... I'll go threaten him or something." Arya hid her smirk with another mouthful of salmon as Robb made his way over to the door, opening it much more gently than Arya had.

"Listen, whatever it is you're selling, we don't want— Theon!" Robb hitched in a breath, taking in the pathetic sight of his friend, drenched and miserable on the porch. "Sorry, Theon, I thought you were... Ary just had to shoo off a salesman, I thought you were him again. Come in, we're having dinner!" He seized up Theon's overstuffed bags and helped him inside with a worried grimace.

“Wait-!” Theon yelled after him, loud enough to catch his attention but not loud enough to alert the other Starks. His cheeks flushed, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to be inside and out of the cold. “I already ate,” he lied, not wanting to join them for dinner, especially not in his current state.

His hands were still shaky but he was controlling them better now, once again swiping his hair out of his face. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your family dinner or whatever, I just was wondering if I could stay the night?” He flashed a crooked smile at Robb, but it was obviously faked, not reaching his eyes.

"Yeah, of course. I'll help you carry these up to my room," said Robb, nonplussed but not questioning it. The sight of that fake smile sent snakes twisting through his gut; he had known Theon long enough to recognize when he wasn't being altogether truthful, and right now his friend was exhibiting every sign of stress known to man. Theon looked like he needed a hot shower and a long rest, neither of which could be supplied with fish, no matter how good of a cook his mother was.

Theon relaxed a bit at that, closely following Robb up the stairs. He knew exactly how to get to Robb’s room, it wasn’t like he needed a guide, but Robb was carrying his bags and Theon wasn’t going to protest. He followed him into his room, standing awkwardly in the doorway and looking around as if he hadn’t seen the room before.

“I- uh- I should probably change. I’m kinda soaked.” Theon forced out a laugh, trying to ignore the nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach and the center of his chest, self-loathing and fear and hurt. “I don’t wanna fuck up your furniture or floor or anything.”

"Go ahead, bathroom is across the hall. Use my soap, it's the Grey Mists one." Robb smiled warmly at him, setting both bags down on the floor next to the bed. "Which bag has your pajamas? I'll lay them out for you?"

Theon looked blankly at him, then back down at his bags. “Uh- I don’t know? I just kinda threw all my shit into the two bags and headed over.” He offered a smile back, though again it did not reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, man. Go finish eating with your family, I’ll stay up here and get myself pulled together.”

"No, I'm full. Go take your shower, I'll sort out this mess here." He patted the larger of the two bags, sinking down onto the bed, and waited until Theon had disappeared across the hall, the bathroom door closing with a soft click. Robb stood up and dashed off downstairs, popping into the dining room just in time to find his mother clearing the table. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm guessing you're not going to be finishing that?" Catelyn asked, gesturing towards his plate of half-eaten salmon. Robb looked back at her apologetically, and she sighed good-naturedly. "It's all right, I understand. Let Theon know that there's plenty of food in the kitchen if he gets hungry later, okay? Leftovers are in the fridge."

"Thanks, mom," he said quietly. She ruffled his hair affectionately as she whisked past, and Robb followed her out to the kitchen to retrieve a couple of water bottles before returning to his bedroom. He set the bottles on his desk and knelt next to the duffle, resigning himself to the grisly task of sorting out a Greyjoy Mess.

Theon took his time in the shower, appreciating the hot water on his cold, wet skin. His soaked clothes laid on the floor outside of the shower, a sloppy pile that was likely creating a cold puddle on the tile. He carefully washed his hair and body, making sure only to use Robb’s soap. He’d one time used Sansa’s shampoo on accident, thinking it wouldn’t be a problem, but she’d known instantly and he’d had to deal with a long lecture for it.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the bathroom closet, wrapping it tightly around himself before picking up the pile of wet clothes and stepping out of the bathroom. He hurried to Robb’s room, eyes widening slightly when he saw his stuff all laid out and organized. “What are you, my mom?” he joked half-heartedly, although he did feel a slight bit better seeing Robb doing something nice for him.

"Maybe I should be, if this is how you pack. You need some parental guidance," Robb said with a grin. He turned away and began pointing to each of the sorted piles in turn. "See, I've put your everyday clothes here in this pile, and your underwear here, and pajamas here.... You get the gist, right?"

Theon froze at the comment, even the fake grin sliding off his face. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears that he’d been holding since his father had first reacted to his announcement. He directed his gaze at the ceiling, tilting his head back a bit and blinking rapidly to keep them from falling. It worked- mostly- except for one tear that managed to escape. He quickly wiped it away, hoping Robb didn’t notice when he turned around.

“Thanks, man.” He walked over to the piles, picking up an atrocious set of squid pajamas that looked like they were made to fit a child.

"Are you sure those will fit? They look a little small... Hey? Uh, are you okay?" Robb asked worriedly, having noticed the glassy shimmer of moisture in Theon's eyes. "What happened, bud? Did I do something?"

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Theon insisted, a little too eagerly. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. He felt as if there were a knot in his throat and an anchor weighing down in his chest. “And they do fit. I’ve worn them around you before.” Theon tried to change the subject, still blinking a bit faster than normal.

"No, seriously," Robb pressed, voice softening. "What happened? Something is obviously wrong... you wouldn't have showed up on my doorstep at 7pm with all your worldly possessions, otherwise. You don't have to tell me everything, just... Just tell me if we need to beat somebody up, okay?"

Robb’s tone of voice wasn’t helping Theon at all and he choked back a soft sound, turning his head to hide the tears welling back up in his eyes before he could blink them away. He felt his cheeks flushing red, embarrassed, not wanting to be seen vulnerable. “Unless you plan on beating up an angry old man, I don’t think so.” He tried not to let any emotion show in his voice, but it cracked when he spoke. He wiped the back of his palm over his face to get rid of any tears that had escaped.

"Your dad?" Robb scowled. He felt as though he were channeling Grey Wind; he'd never wanted to hurt somebody more than he did in this moment, and he almost wished he were the wolfdog, so it wouldn't be weird if he were to growl or attack the asshole Balon Greyjoy. He couldn't do either of those things, or anything else really, not right now, so he settled for enveloping Theon in a tight hug, not minding the still-damp tresses of his hair or the way his shoulders shook silently in a valiant effort to stifle his emotions.

Theon practically melted against Robb, wrapping his arms just as tightly around him, hiding his face in the crook of Robb’s neck to muffle any small sobs that escaped. He was aware that he was shaking, biting hard on his own lip and closing his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to let go- he didn’t want Robb to let go. Robb was his best friend, Robb was safe.

“Yeah. My dad,” Theon managed, his words a bit garbled by how hard he was trying to hold back his sobs. He didn’t cry often, always buried his emotions, but he wasn’t doing so well then. He didn’t want Robb to see how vulnerable he was, but he didn’t want to be alone either.

"I'll kill him," Robb cursed. "If you want me to. I'll hurt him." He rubbed one soothing hand over Theon's back and carded the other through the damp tangles of Theon's hair. He desperately wanted to know just what it was that Theon's dad had done, but he didn't want to pressure Theon. Whatever it was, discussing it could wait. What mattered now was making his friend feel better.

“He’s my dad, Robb. You can’t.” Theon’s voice was quiet and weaker than normal and he quickly bit his lip again as another sob threatened to come out, closing his eyes and tightening his arms around Robb. He always bottled things up, and it was like everything he’d been pushing down for the past few months- years- was all coming up at once. He felt sick, his stomach in knots. Everything his dad said to him, every failed attempt to make him proud, every mistake he made to disappoint him. He thought of the way Yara had just watched as Balon hit him, not saying a single word. How he felt more at home in the Stark’s house than he did in his own. He felt guilty, guilty for interrupting their dinner, for taking up their time. He quickly pulled away from Robb and turned around. “I’m fine, it’s fine, it’s really nothing, I’m just being a bother.” He forced out another laugh, stomach twisting at how pathetic he sounded. He wasn’t normally like this, and it made him uncomfortable to be so fucking vulnerable.

"You're not being a bother, Theon, you know the door is always open for you." It really hurt Robb to see Theon like this; his friend was usually so sure of himself, if not a little arrogant, and to see him reduced to this at the hands of his own father was both devastating and infuriating. He tightened his arms around him. "It's not okay just because he's your dad. If you don't want me to do anything, I promise I won't, but it's not okay. You deserve better than him."

Theon took a deep, shaking breath, not looking at Robb. “I-I told him- I tried to tell him,” Theon explained lamely, knowing his words were vague. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he’d told his father. He felt ashamed, after the things Balon had said, he felt so fucking ashamed. It wasn’t that Robb didn’t know already, but Theon just could not say it.

He wanted to stop crying so badly, to just force on a smile and make some stupid jokes and act normal. He wanted to be joking around with his best friend, not crying like a stupid kid in his arms.

"Tell him what, Theon?" Robb asked gently. "You can tell me, if you want to. You don't have to." He had a strong suspicion over what this may be about but he didn't want to make assumptions, and besides, Theon had never actually said the words to him. They both knew, but it went unsaid, the ways things between best friends could be.

“I...” Theon chewed at his lip, trying to calm himself down as best he could. He wanted to tell Robb, but he was... scared. He knew Robb wouldn’t be angry with him, but he was afraid to see disgust or shock in his best friend’s eyes, and he was unsure if he could handle that. Robb knew, of course he knew, but knowing about something and actually admitting to something were very different.

“I like men.” Theon finally spoke, barely audible, a sob shaking his body after he said it. “Please don’t be angry, please, please don’t think it’s gross.” His voice was cracking again. Fear, thick and dark and heavy, swirled in his gut. His father’s words danced in his head, ‘fucking faggot,’ and ‘no child of mine is a fucking pillow biter.’ ‘Disgusting.’ He could feel the echo of his father’s hand on his face, the sharp sting of the slap.

Robb paused. He pulled back and carefully studied Theon's face. "Thee," he said slowly, "Why would I be angry? Why would I think it's gross? You could never be gross. You could never be anything but my best friend. Who cares who you love?" Robb hesitated before plunging onward. "Thee, I like guys too. I'm bisexual, too."

Theon visibly relaxed, tension fading from his shoulders as he looked back at Robb. “My dad, he freaked out. He freaked out, Robb, he fucking hit me. He hasn’t done that in forever.” He reached up to wipe away the tear tracks on his cheeks, trying not to cry anymore. “He was so angry. And Yara just- she just stood there, she didn’t even say anything. He threatened to kill me himself if I stayed. Robb, I don’t have a fucking home anymore.” His last few words grew more and more distressed and he squeezed his eyes shut to will away any fresh tears.

"Yes, you do." Robb pulled him into another hug. Theon's face pressed into his chest, tears soaking through the soft material of his sweater. "You'll always have a home here, Theon. You can live here as long as you want." Robb was steaming. He'd never been fond of Balon Greyjoy, he'd always thought him to be an egotistical asshole with an overinflated sense of importance, but even do he'd never though Balon would go so far as to kick Theon out, let alone threaten to kill him. He hated him.

“Drowned God, Robb, I’m so sorry.” Theon’s voice was muffled but he didn’t make any attempt to move away, content to hide his face against his best friend’s chest. “I should’ve never told him. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.” He wrapped his arms around Robb’s middle, holding him tightly, as if his life depended on it. It felt good, almost, to let everything out, to not bottle it up and push it down, even if it was uncomfortable to be so vulnerable.

"Shh, it's okay, buddy. Don't apologize. At least you don't have it hanging over your head anymore? At least you're out of there now." He hated seeing his friend cry more than almost anything, especially considering he was crying because of his own damned father. He'd never seen Theon like this before... it was horrible.

Theon stayed where he was for a few minutes, letting himself calm down a bit before looking up at Robb, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, cheeks wet with tears. “Your family- what will they say? They won’t want me staying here, they already have so many kids, and your mom has never really liked me.”

"My dad calls you his seventh child, Theon. And my mom might not say it, but she does care about you," he said reassuringly. "You're always welcome here. The kids see you as their brother, you know. Arya, Bran, and Rickon. And the dogs love you. And you're my best friend... So I think you're more than welcome to stay as long as you want."

“Oh yeah, and that’s why Arya slammed the door in my face,” Theon snorted, a slight smile on his face and a glimmer of genuine amusement in his eyes. He felt his heart swell just a bit at Robb’s words. He had truly spent more time at the Stark’s house in his teen years than at his own, so it wouldn’t really be much of a difference. “Just... don’t tell them why my old man kicked me out. Please.”

"She did?" Robb laughed. "She told us there was a door-to-door salesman. And don't worry, I won't. I won't tell them anything, just that you're staying with us for as long as you need."

The bedroom door opened and a massive bundle of gray and white fur charged in. Jon stood in the doorway, looking awkwardly upon the two of them. Theon still wore nothing but a towel, low around his waist, and their arms were wound around each other.

"Grey Wind wanted to come in.... I'll uh, leave you guys to it." He backed out and shut the door fast as he could, cheeks flushing red.

Theon had forgotten about Jon, and he stepped away from Robb quickly, looking down at himself in just a towel and then back up at Robb, a lopsided grin on his face. “He’s leaving us to it,” he joked, reaching down to pet Grey Wind, happy to see the massive wolfdog. “That little bastard thinks we’re going at it.”

Jon was, in Theon’s humble opinion, a complete idiot, and knew Jon thought the same of him. Of course he didn’t really dislike Jon, just found him annoying sometimes, but he had no problem teasing him whenever he was around.

"And he wasn't grossed out," Robb pointed out. "But maybe you should put your pajamas on." He handed the weirdly cute squid pajamas to Theon as Grey Wind hopped onto the bed and curled up, still managing to occupy 90% of the mattress.

Theon dropped the towel, not caring that Robb was still around. They’d seen each other in the nude plenty before, he didn’t really find it weird. He pulled on the pajamas, which were honestly a bit too small, and took a step over toward the bed to pet Grey Wind again. “He seemed pretty flustered to me.”

"Yeah, but I'm his brother. He was probably embarrassed by his own mental images of us fucking." Robb shrugged, sitting on the bed next to his wolfdog.

Theon snorted, glad for the change in conversation and the excuse to joke around. “Or he’s jealous and is going off to jerk it.” He made an obscene hand motion, grin widening.

"Jerk it to the thought of his brother and friend getting it on?" Robb pulled a face. "I mean, if that's what gets you going, I won't judge," he teased.

“I don’t know what kind of shit that bastard is into,” Theon shrugged. “But you know what they say- it’s always the quiet ones who are the kinkiest.” The thought of Jon doing any sort of kinky shit was enough to make Theon snicker. He sat on the bed next to Robb, scratching behind Grey Wind’s ears.

"That would mean you're vanilla, and I find that hard to believe. Especially with your track record. Remember Ros?" Robb raised his eyebrows, a grin playing at his lips.

Theon at least had the courtesy to blush at the comment, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on, that’s not all on me. The girl liked being on top, and it wasn’t like handcuffs made the sex any less brilliant. Not that you’d know,” Theon teased. “‘The Young Wolf’ my ass- ‘The Young Virgin,’ they should call you. If you wanted, you could’ve banged half the girls in school by now.”

"Maybe I have," Robb said, leaning in close with a challenging look. "Maybe I just didn't tell you. Maybe I've fucked every girl and every guy in the school, except you."

Theon ignored the way Robb was looking at him, the way he was so close that he could almost feel the heat of his breath. He just laughed, shaking his head. “I sure fucking hope not, seeing as all your siblings are all girls and guys at our school.”

Robb leaned back, stroking a hand across Grey Wind's soft flank. "Well, not them either, obviously. But there was this one guy..." He cast a sideways glance at Theon, masking a grin. "A couple of months ago. We had a bit of a thing." His eyes fell shut and he donned a fond smile, as though reminiscing good times.

“Who?” Theon immediately replied, narrowing his eyes. “You’re getting fucked and not telling me, your best and closest friend?” Theon playfully punched his arm, ignoring the pang of some weird feeling in his stomach. He was a bit hurt, confused that Robb hadn’t told him.

"I wasn't the one getting fucked, though," Robb contradicted, snapping his eyes open and turning to gaze intently at Theon. "I fucked that kid into his mattress, and he called me his wolf, his alpha. I didn't tell you because he begged me not to tell anyone, he wanted to be my dirty little secret."

Theon felt heat pooling in his gut, shifting uncomfortably as his cock twitched in his much-to-small squid pajama pants. He told himself it was just because he was hearing about sex, not because of who it was coming from. Grey Wind, ever the bro, lifted his head and placed it calmly on Theon’s lap, effectively hiding his poorly-timed boner. “Didn’t take you for an aggressive top. Thought you were more of the gentle type,” he joked.

"I think I could be a switch," Robb said thoughtfully. "Depending on who it is. But for him, I was definitely the dominant. How about you? Have you thought about it at all?"

Theon’s face went a stupid shade of red at the question. “I haven’t fucked a dude, dude.” Sure, he’d fingered himself a fair few times- or maybe more than just a fair few. And there was always that one or two- or more- times with Yara’s hairbrush. “I’d totally top,” Theon fibbed, sounding much more confident than he felt about the statement. Just because he liked having his ass fucked didn’t make him a bottom. “I don’t think about it too much, though," he finished with a shrug.

Robb hummed in soft agreement, falling back to lay across the mattress—or rather, across Grey Wind's massive side. He carded his fingers through the thick fur, thinking.

"Your dad is wrong," Robb said finally after a period of quiet. "On so many levels. How can it be gross to love somebody?" He tilted his head to look at Theon, a little crease between his furrowed brows. "I don't get people like that."

“I don’t know. He’s always been like that. My uncles, too. Uncle Euron used to make fun of me as a kid whenever I played with anything that wasn’t super masculine.” He laughed, laying back as well, letting Grey Wind move a bit so he could rest his head on the wolf dog’s side.

"Well, Euron is a cunt, so I'm not surprised. He always called me a dirty mutt when I was a kid." Robb chuckled. "I hated going to your house when he was there. Your dad, though... He's not the nicest man, but I never thought he would do that to you. No matter what, you were his boy."

His boy. A bad taste grew in his mouth at the thought, remembering the night they found out about his brothers’ deaths. Theon nodded slowly before replying. “His only boy. It’s not like he’s ever cared about me though, really. Remember that time he found my weed and ran away for a while before he could yell at me?” He laughed at the memory, pushing back the recent negative events that it reminded him of.

"Yeah," Robb sighed fondly. "You came running right here, begging to hide out for a while until he got over it. It only took a few hours.... Just long enough for him to smoke it all." Robb peeked over at him, studying his face, just to make sure he was still doing okay.

Theon grinned, looking back at him. “He’s such a fucking hypocrite, really. Next I’ll find out he likes it up the ass or something.” He turned his head back to look at the ceiling, closing his eyes.

"Wouldn't that be something," sighed Robb. "Balon Greyjoy's internalized homophobia... Sounds like a Cards Against Humanity card."

“Honestly,” Theon laughed, breaking off into a yawn. “Drowned God, Grey Wind, do you have to be so soft? I feel like I’m about to pass out here.”

Grey Wind whined, nosing gently at Theon's hand, seeking pets. Robb chuckled, rising off the bed and padding sockfooted across the hardwood floor of his room to his dresser.

"Are you sure you want to sleep in those, Thee? They look like you've had them since fourth grade. Hell, they're not even squid pants, they're squid capris! Squidpris!" He brandished a pair of dark blue flannel pants at him. "You can wear these, if you'd rather?"

Theon happily pet Grey Wind, not bothering to open his eyes. “That’s because I got them when I was nine, dude. I’m not taking off my squid pants, Robb, don’t even try. You wish you had squid pants like these. I think you’re just unbearable attracted to me in these and that’s why you want me to change.”

Robb burst out laughing. "Oh no, you got me! I have such a hard-on for you in those pants, Thee, honestly I want nothing more than to tear them off of you," he choked out, still laughing. He kicked off his own jeans and tugged on the flannel pants, kicking the jeans off to the corner and throwing his shirt off with it. He collapsed back onto the bed, bouncing the mattress and making Grey Wind bark in alarm.

“Hey, don’t fuck up my pillow!” Theon whined, pressing his face back against Grey Wind’s thick fur coat. “I could sleep naked, if you’d rather, but I think the squid pants- excuse me, Squidpris- are more comfortable for both of us.”

"Maybe for you! I am _so_ unbelievably horny seeing you in those pants, I can hardly contain myself." Robb licked his lips jokingly.

"Hey, if you guys could keep your weird homoerotic friendship a little quieter, that'd be nice!" Arya called from out in the hallway, presumably on her way to the bathroom.

“Shut up, you stay up all night anyway! What do you have to worry about, a spelling test tomorrow?” Theon shouted back, teasing but without even a dash of anger or actual annoyance in his tone. He then turned to look at Robb. “Was that boy you fucked wearing squid pants then?”

"No, he wasn't wearing anything. If anything, I was wearing him on my cock," Robb replied, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“Drowned God, Robb, I’m going to sleep,” Theon groaned, picking up one of the actual pillows and whacking him with it. “Turn off the light, loser.”

"Fine," Robb said, and he almost stuck his tongue out at him, but he refrained, because he wasn't Arya. "Making me get out of bed again, asshole." But he did, and returned again in the pitch dark of his room to curl up against Grey Wind, with Theon on the dog's other side. "G'night, Thee."

“Night, asshole,” Theon responded softly, muffled by Grey Wind’s fur.


	2. Chapter 2

Robb woke first the next morning to the sight of Theon cuddled up against Grey Wind, their faces almost touching, and he had to stifle a laugh. Both Theon and the dog were deep in sleep, mouths hanging slightly open. Thankfully, Theon wasn't drooling, but the same could not be said for Grey Wind, with his tongue lolled half out. The stupid squid shirt was riding up Theon's stomach, truly a testament to how small it was, and the Squidpris were now bunched up around his knees.

"Dumbasses," he said fondly. He didn't have to wake them up just yet, not for another hour at least, so he had plenty of time to steal a shower. He picked out a pair of jeans and a sweater a deep shade of red, casting the snoozing pair another amused glance before departing for the shower.

Theon was practically laying on top of Grey Wind, happily dreaming away with the soft fur of the wolf cushioning his body. He woke up when Grey Wind did, groaning in annoyance and rolling back over onto his stomach on the bed, not caring to adjust any of his squid-themed sleeping attire. The pants were low on his hips and he was sure at least part of his ass was showing, but he wasn’t concerned. He didn’t feel like getting up, and decided he wouldn’t until Robb came back and forced him too.

Unfortunately for Theon, that time was soon.

Robb stepped back into the room, clad only in a towel, damp hair dripping thin trails of water down his back. "Oh, you're up. Good. Want something for breakfast?" he asked as he dropped the towel, tugging on boxers and his jeans. He threw the towel over his head, ruffling it up to dry it faster.

Theon groaned and hid his face against the pillows. “No, I’m not up,” he grunted, the words thickly muffled.

"Sure sounds like you are," Robb muttered. "Grey Wind! Come here!" The wolfdog bolted up and leaped off the bed, circling happily around his master. "Go wake up Theon!"

The dog took this to heart, and jumped back onto the bed, almost on top of Theon, and put his face unnecessarily close to Theon's so his panting breath fanned hotly over his face. He keened loudly, impatiently, and laid his full weight of 136 pounds on top of him.

“Robb!” Theon whined, loudly, squirming under the dog’s weight. “Grey Wind, get off!” He managed to roll out from under him and sit up, hair all messed up and eyes bleary with sleep. He squinted at Robb, pout on his lips. “I’m tired.”

"Too bad. You know it's a Thursday, right? We have class," Robb said, entirely unsympathetic. Grey Wind hopped down and returned to Robb's side, panting happily and looking quite pleased with himself.

“Fuck, I need to smoke or something,” Theon grumbled, wondering what ever happened to the bag of pot in his pocket from the night before. He very slowly pulled himself off the bed, grabbing a pair of blue skinny jeans and a t-shirt in the same exact shade of blue.

Robb pulled a face, disproving of the outfit choice, but opting not to say anything. "No, you need to eat breakfast. What do you want? Cereal, waffles, eggs, poptarts... Whatever."

“Would your mom care if I smoked on the porch?” Theon yawned, frowning at the face Robb made. “What’s wrong?”

".....you're gonna wear that?" Robb asked judgementally. "Theon, please. Don't do this to yourself."

“What’s wrong with it? It’s just jeans and a t-shirt.” Theon furrowed his brows, voice still slurred a bit from being tired. “I think I’m very stylish.”

"Theon, you look like a blue crayon," Robb said with a pained expression.

Theon wiggled his eyebrows back at his best friend. “A sexy blue crayon.”

"More like the sad blue crayon that nobody uses because it's broken and floppy in the middle, but still held together by the wrapper. You know, the kind that had the point all worn down to a nub and nobody cared enough to sharpen it?" Robb lifted an eyebrow. "So it ended up broken and just kind of sits at the bottom of the pencil box, all sad and shit."

“Sounds like you’re describing your own cock now.” Theon gave a small huff of laughter at his own shitty joke, lopsided grin spread wide across his face. He traded the blue shirt for a black one anyway, one that was probably a bit too tight, but so were his jeans, so he wasn’t at all concerned.

"I think my cock is a little better than a broken crayon." Robb moved his hand to the front of his jeans, playfully teasing at the zipper.

“Compared to mine?” Theon’s grin widened as he reached for his own zipper. “You wanna bet?”

"You're telling me you're actually packing something in those twink pants?" Robb cast an amused look over the too-tight skinny jeans. "I don't think there's room for much."

Theon raised an eyebrow, taking it as a challenge, shimmying his jeans down to his knees with some effort and pulling down his boxers just enough to whip out his cock. “Oh really? Because I’ve seen yours, and I think mine is just a little bit bigger.”

The door opened. "Hey, Robb, Mrs. Stark wants to know when you guys are coming down for breakfaa......" Jon stared blankly at the scene in front of him, looking like a nine-year-old whose hamster had just died and thought life couldn't get any worse.

"We'll be down in a few," Robb said, straight-faced.

“Like what you see, Snow?” Theon teased, moving the hand holding his cock to make it wiggle a bit, which he himself found to be very funny.

Something in Jon's eyes shuttered. "Turn back around," he pleaded. He looked with vague disappointment at Robb, avoiding all eye contact with Theon and his various parts. "She's made pancakes, whenever you're, uh, ready."

“So you’re an ass man, huh?” Theon did a little twirl, making sure to keep staring Jon in the face. “Is it living up to all your fantasy expectations?”

"Unless that's fake and you have a pussy in there somewhere, no." He shut the door quickly, vowing to himself that he would learn how to knock.

"Maybe you should put that away, Theon, in case it's Arya or Rickon that come wandering in here next," Robb chuckled.

Theon tucked his dick back into his pants and zipped them back up, shrugging. “Maybe your siblings should learn how to knock then.” He didn’t care much at all that he’d embarrassed Jon- the bastard could’ve easily avoided the situation by just knocking on the door. “We should go down for those pancakes, though.”

"Yeah." Robb pulled his sweater on and pushed his still-damp hair back from his eyes. "Do you have your school bag?"

Theon paused for a moment and looked around at his stuff. Robb made a fair point. “Uh, probably not. I don’t need it anyway, I’ll just snag some pens from one of the teachers and hope for the best. It’s not like I ever come prepared anyway.”

"I'll get you some stuff. I think we had an extra backpack laying around somewhere," Robb promised. "Let's get you some food first, you must be starving."

“Honestly, I don’t need it,” Theon insisted. Half the time he just skipped class to smoke blunts outside under the bleachers with whoever else was there. That was probably the reason for his failing grades, though he still insisted the teachers just had a personal grudge against him.

Robb gave him the Look™. "Theon, you don't even want to know what my mom does when one of us is failing a class. You should take the bag, take some notebooks, and actually go to class. It's for the best."

Theon huffed. “Like I said, dude, I always skip class. You know that.” He went over to his bags, digging around for where he’d put his phone and his weed, cramming both into his pockets.

"Are you living here now?" Robb waited until Theon nodded before continuing. "Then in my mom's eyes, you're hers. And her kids don't skip class."

Theon groaned. “Dude, there’s no way I can actually sit through one of Professor Frey’s classes. Or any classes, really.”

"Yeah, fuck Professor Frey, don't bother going to his class," he said with a grimace. "You'll be fine, Theon. It's not that bad. The rest of us do it."

“Says you, Robb Stark, future valedictorian,” Theon retorted.

“Are you two done bickering or do you plan to walk to school?” Arya’s voice came from the hallway as she knocked loudly on the door.

"Don't worry, Ary, we're coming." Robb seized Theon by the shoulder and steered him towards the bedroom door. "Let's go, come on. You'll be fine."

Theon didn’t bother arguing, going downstairs with Robb to grab a quick breakfast before heading out to one of the Stark family vans. He still wasn’t planning on going to class, but Robb didn’t need to know that. Robb would just figure it out.

Arya was sitting in the passenger seat with Catelyn driving, leaving Sansa and Bran to the two bucket seats and Jon squished between Theon and Robb in the back. Jon always sat in the middle seat, and had gone due to habit, not thinking about the possible change in seating due to the addition of a certain Theon Greyjoy.

“I see you wanna stay close to me, huh, Snow?” Theon grinned.

"Oh yeah, you bet. Just can't get enough of you," Jon sneered, 'accidentally' elbowing Theon in the gut under the guise of getting himself comfortable. Robb snickered. Bran sighed, already sensing this was going to be a long trip.

* * *

It was the last period of the day, and Theon was incredibly fucking stoned. He had to go to class, it was one he shared with Robb, but he figured he looked presentable enough and didn’t go to wash his face in the bathroom as he normally would.

Luckily, the class was math, with none other than the ever-charming Sandor Clegane, often called “the Hound” by students based off some story that had been circulating for years and had many different versions to it. Professor Clegane couldn’t give less of a fuck about what his students were doing as long as they knew how to do the math. Theon walked into the room right before the bell, sliding into the chair of his desk next to Robb. He shot a grin at his best friend. “Hey.”

"You're high," Robb remarked after a cursory glance. He looked disappointed. "You didn't go to your English class, did you?"

“I am not,” Theon replied, grin widening. He looked like the bad example poster boy for some sort of anti-marijuana commercial. “I totally went to English.”

"No, you didn't. Jon told me you weren't there..." Robb's face screwed up and he leaned away from Theon. "Plus, you reek. You really reek. If you're gonna smoke at school, at least bring some spray or something to cover the smell."

“You,” Theon pointed at Robb, “are very, very rude. I do not reek, thank you very much.” He leaned back in his chair, barely noticing as the Hound passed out papers for all of them. “And Jon is a snake.” He stuck out his tongue, making a hissing sound. “I’m gonna talk to him.”

"Right, sorry. You're stinky," Robb laughed.

"Are you five, Stark?" Clegane snapped, throwing some papers at him. "I swear, your whole pack is a bunch of dumb cunts."

Theon snickered, grinning widely at Robb. “You hear that? You’re a dumb cunt, Stark.”

The Hound was, despite his rough and tough demeanor, a widely liked and very successful teacher. He boasted of the fact that no student of his had ever failed any of his finals- which were, according to everyone who’d taken one, very challenging. Theon was a big fan of the guy. Theon was not spared, however, and the Hound turned on him with ferocity. He slapped the paper down on Theon's desk, narrowly avoiding his hand.

"And you!" he barked. He turned to stalk away but paused, turned back around, and stared at Theon. "Stark was right. You smell, Greyjoy."

“Oh, now, that’s just rude.” Theon looked down at the paper. There was a big ‘sixty nine’ scrawled on it in red pen. He turned the paper to Robb. “Hey, dude, look at this. Hey, hey. Robb. Robb, look. Sixty nine,” he snickered.

Robb humored him with a laugh, but much to Theon's dismay, the Hound was lured back by the sound of joy. He peered down at the score, looked sternly at Theon, and whipped out his red pen to change the nine into an eight. He walked away without another word.

Theon leaned back in his chair and groaned- loudly. “Oh come on, Clegane!” He glared up toward the front of the classroom, but he wasn’t actually angry, and didn’t much look it either. “Robb. Robb, he made it a sixty eight.” He turned to pout at Robb.

"Oh no, it's not funny anymore!" Robb said with fake grief. "I guess you'll have to work harder to score that extra point!"

“Okay, cunts,” the Hound announced before Theon had time to reply, slamming a hand down on his desk at the front of the room. “I told you we’d have a test sometime this week, so we’re having it today. Greyjoy, come help me pass these out.”

There was a wail of despair from somewhere in the back of the room and Theon groaned loudly, getting up and taking the stack of test packets from Clegane to pass out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yee haw

"So, how do you think you did? Another 69? Maybe even—if I dare say it—a 70?" Robb teased as they left the classroom after the test.

“Oh shut your mouth.” Theon punched him playfully in the arm as they headed toward the exit of the school. His eyes caught the gaze of another man, eyes an icy shade of blue- almost white, even- but it was gone so fast he wasn’t even sure he saw it. He frowned for a moment before turning back to Robb. He ignored the weird feeling he had, the uneasiness from seeing those eyes. “Is your mom driving us again?”

"Yeah, I think so. Unless you wanted to walk." Robb looked around curiously, seeking the source of Theon's discomfort. "Are you all right?"

“Yeah, yeah, I just thought I saw someone staring at me. It’s nothing.” He grinned and turned back to look at Robb. “I have to ask- why don’t you just drive your own car to school?” He fished a joint out of his pocket once they were out of the doors and heading toward one of the benches near the playground. He lit it with a lighter from his pocket, taking a hit and slowly blowing out the smoke before holding it out to Robb, nodding his head to signal for him to take it.

"I don't know, it's just easier to ride with everybody else. I only have a coupe, so it's not like I could drive everyone." Robb accepted the joint, took a hit, and passed it back surreptitiously. Cersei Lannister was walking past them, likely on her way to the PTA meeting that Robb's own mother was heading, and she was the last person he wanted seeing a marijuana blunt on school grounds. He nudged Theon, nodding in Cersei's direction, indicating that he should be careful.

Theon couldn’t give less of a fuck and took a huge drag, tilting his head back and blowing it out rather dramatically. “What’s she gonna do, tell me weed is bad? So is fucking your brother- not that she cares.”

Robb snorted. "You look like a fucking dragon doing that." He took another drag as offered, keeping an eye on Cersei even as she entered the building. He really didn't feel like hearing it from his mother if he was caught.

“A sexy dragon.” He wiggles his eyebrows, perfectly content to sit close to Robb on the bench and pass the joint back and forth, both of them bundled up in coats.

“Are you two seriously smoking weed on the playground?” A voice came from behind them, and Theon grimaced when he turned and saw Jon.

"Yeah, you want some?" Robb offered, waggling the joint tantalizingly in his fingers. Jon rolled his eyes and sat down on the bench next to them.

"Sure, why not." Robb passed it over to Jon, who inhaled slowly, and passed it back to Theon.

“Aw c'mon, Jon’s gonna use it all up now. I paid for that,” Theon complained, not actually caring, happily taking another hit when Jon passed it back to him. He felt warm, despite the cold weather, and his mind was free from any thoughts of his family or those sharp blue eyes.

The outside doors to the gym banged open as the joint made another lap around, and a gaggle of girls decked out in sports uniforms flooded outside. Half of them were shivering in their thin jerseys, while some, like a familiar brunette, acted like the brisk November afternoon was a spectacular June day. They crowded around a white schoolbus, the words Winterfell Academy printed on the side in fancy lettering appropriate of the finest private school in Westeros.

"Looks like the volleyball team has an away game," Robb remarked as the girls boarded the bus. His eyes lingered on the brunette at the back of the crowd, distasteful and almost angry.

Theon swallowed hard at the sight of his older sister, assistant coach of the girls’ volleyball team, feeling as if a knife were just jammed between his ribs. She turned her head, looking around and making eye contact with him for a split second before getting on the bus. He shook it off quickly, shifting his attention to other things. A girl with vibrant red hair was at the end of the line, wearing the shortest shorts out of all the girls on the team, talking to two others and making big hand motions to convey whatever story she was telling. She turned her head, and Theon noticed Jon waving to her as she winked back at him.

“Who’s she then?” Theon turned to look at him. “The redhead, the one with the perky tits.”

"Oh... That's my friend," Jon said, not offering up any more of an explanation, let alone a name. Robb, who had previously been busy worrying about Theon, sent Jon a skeptical look.

"Really? Just a friend?"

"Yeah." Jon shrugged.

“Well then, Snow. How tight is your ‘friend’s’ cunt?” Theon taunted, a mischievous glimmer in his eye.

Jon's mouth twitched into an almost scowl before his jaw set and he fixed Theon in a heavy glower. "I wouldn't know. I don't fuck every girl who looks twice at me."

“Hey now,” Theon raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just because you’re angry that you’re still a virgin doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me. I can give you some tips, if you want. I know just how to make a girl desperate for your cock.” He winked, just to add another layer of discomfort. “You gotta get ‘em drooling for it before you actually give them any.”

"Yeah? Are you sure you're not just winning a parade of pity fucks?" Jon asked wryly, thoroughly unamused. Robb, on the other hand, was hiding a grin.

“Pity fucks? Yes, I’m sure that’s it. It’s all pity when they’re moaning for me.” Theon scrunched his face up in a fake display of pleasure, raising his voice to a higher, mocking, girlish pitch. “Oh yes, Theon, fuck me, fuck me harder, I want your cock so bad!” He faked a couple of moans before looking back to Jon with a smirk, very aware that he didn’t find him funny at all.

"Are you sure it's not 'oh Theon, your ass is so tight'!" Jon's voice took on a high falsetto, imitating that of the typical girl Theon usually went after. "'Theon, spread your legs a little wider!' I think that's a little more accurate, don't you?"

Theon’s expression twisted into a scowl, his face flushing bright, bright red. “I’ve never gotten my ass fucked, thank you very much. I would absolutely be a top if I fucked a dude.” He once again ignored the nagging memory in the back of his brain of all the times he got off to fucking himself with that stupid fucking hairbrush.

Jon looked between Robb and Theon, clearly judging them. "Didn't seem like that this morning. Standing there with your cock out?"

Theon flushed an even deeper red but tried to play it off. “I was- dude! So out of context! I was proving that my cock was bigger. Bigger than yours, too,” he pouted, crossing his arms.

"You haven't seen mine, Greyjoy. I don't think you want to go there," Jon said challengingly. He took the forgotten blunt and inhaled hard, blowing it back in Theon's face. Robb by this point had a school book out in his lap and was taking notes on the day's reading.

“You wanna bet?” Theon took it as a challenge, raising his eyebrows and snatching the joint back, doing the same thing to Jon that he’d just done to him, not paying attention to the fact that Robb was stuck between them on the bench.

"Why would I want to see your nasty dick again?" Jon sneered. He cast a glance over to the doors, wondering when the damned PTA meeting would be out and they could go home... But of course, Theon would be coming with, so there was really no escape.

“You’re the one who challenged me.” Theon leaned back on the bench, looking up at the sky. “And my cock is not nasty, for the record. It’s beautiful. Ask any of the girls here.”

"I've seen it. I'm not a fan. Mine's better, in any case," said Jon confidently. Robb, thought valiantly trying to study, looked as though he'd have more fun getting stabbed to death than he would spending another second in the middle of these two idiots.

“Who knows, maybe even your pretty little redhead has sucked my cock. I’ve had so many mouths around it, I can’t even keep track.” Theon bragged, straightening up again to look directly at Jon. “Just more proof that mine is better.”

"You haven't been anywhere near her," Jon spat, thinking of how she had just moved to Winterfell a couple of months prior. She wasn’t exactly the outwardly social type, either...

“How do you know?” Theon then looked down at Jon’s crotch, then back up at his face. “I think you’re jealous.”

"I'd never be jealous of that." Jon stood up suddenly, slouching off to the doors. "I'll prove it, since you're not going to let it go."

Theon followed him in, leaving Robb alone to study. They went down the hall to reach the bathroom and Theon pulled Jon into the handicapped stall, starting to unzip his pants. “Gonna take it out, or is your pecker so small that you can’t even find it on yourself?”

Jon unzipped his pants angrily and tugged them down his hips. "This is so stupid," he muttered, reaching into his boxers. Theon did the same, pulling his boxers down just enough for his cock to be freed. It was flaccid, of course, but it was still longer than the average cock. It was Theon’s pride and joy, the object of many women’s masturbatory fantasies. He proudly held it in his hand, looking over to see Jon’s.

‘Well fucking shit,’ was the first thought that came to Theon’s mind. ‘That thing is bigger than my fucking wrist.’ What he said, however, was, “Dude, you’ve got a chode.”

"I- I do not!" Jon burst out, cheeks flaming red. He stuffed it away and yanked his pants back furiously. He knew this was stupid— he did not have a chode! It was a perfectly normal length!

Theon put his cock away as well, fixing his pants, and practically skipped out of the bathroom and back outside. “Robb!” He called in a sing-song voice. “Robb! Jon has a fucking chode!”

A kid walked by gave them both an incredibly weird look. Robb looked up, bewildered. "What? No he doesn't, I've seen it."

“Then why’s his face so red?” Theon was being much louder than he probably should’ve been. “Jon Snow has a fucking chode!”

"He's red because you're screaming about his dick!" Robb groaned, half-heartedly slapping Theon's arm with his notebook. "Quit it, you'll make him mad and I don't feel like listening to it."

Jon sat down on the bench, purposely spreading his knees so that he was taking up two spots instead of one, face red and still glowering at Theon.

Theon just shrugged, looking down at the bench and its lack of space, pretending to contemplate it for a minute before just sitting in Robb’s lap- books be damned.

"Oh, okay," Robb sighed. "All right. This is fine." He tugged the book out from underneath Theon's ass and leaned back against the back of the bench, allowing for Theon to have a little more space. "Are you comfortable, my liege?"

“Ever so comfortable, my lord,” Theon replied in a fake posh tone, readjusting his position now that the book was gone and Robb was leaned back. He was very thankful for how muscular Robb was now that he was using his thighs as a seat. He may have wiggled his ass a little against Robb’s crotch while adjusting himself, or he may not have. It was so subtle that it barely even happened.

"Oh, good. I live to please you," Robb drawled.

"Hey guys, that's kind of gay," Jon said, laughing to himself.

Theon scowled. “You’re kind of gay.” Then, as an afterthought, “You’re just jealous ‘cause no one wants your fat little chode.”

"You don't know that," Jon snapped. He rose to his feet and stormed off towards the doors. "I'm gonna go see how long the meeting is going to be."

“Have fun jerking off in the bathroom to your redhead bitch!” Theon yelled after him, snorting at the wittiness of his own joke. He made no moves to get off of Robb, instead leaning back so he was pressed against his chest. “You really, really need to bring your own car, man.”

Jon flipped Theon off as he slipped through the doors.

"Yeah, I know... it's just easier to carpool." Robb looked up at Theon in his lap, then over to the empty space on the bench next to him. "Did you want to actually sit?" he asked.

“I already am sitting. I just got comfortable. Plus, you’re warm, and I’m freezing my balls off here.” Theon didn’t move at all, perfectly content to stay where he was and wait for Jon to come back.

"But you're squashing mine," Robb groaned.

Theon was almost starting to nod off when the PTA members started leaving the school, Catelyn being the last one, reluctantly talking to Cersei Lannister and followed by the rest of the Stark and Lannister children. Catelyn looked over to the two on the bench. “Come on, boys.” She called. “We’re leaving.”

“Finally!" Robb exclaimed. "C'mon, Thee." He made no inclination to move, however, so Robb wrapped his arms around his waist and hefted him up easily.

“Hey!” Theon practically screeched, not expecting to be suddenly jerked up into the air. “Robb!” He could see Jon and Arya snickering to each other and he shot them a look. When Robb let him down and got in the van, Theon sat right back down on his lap, squirming this time to insure Robb’s discomfort. “You picked me up, now you’re committed," he explained.

It was rather like signing his own death warrant. Robb sighed, resigning himself to his fate, and settled back in the seat. After helping Catelyn load Bran into his seat and collapse the wheelchair, Jon slid into the seat next to them. He grinned at them both, a little cocky and a little amused.

"Comfortable?" he snarked.

“Very,” Theon retorted, smug, still moving around, decided he would keep up the annoying squirming for the whole car ride. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was practically grinding his ass against Robb’s crotch. He was more just doing it to piss him off, knowing his ass was more bony than anything else.

"Oh, we're doing this now? Cool. Love that." Robb rolled his eyes, glancing over at Jon in a sort of plea for help. Jon, however, merely snickered at his misfortune.

"You committed," Jon reminded him in a mocking tone. Whatever. At least it was only a six minute drive.

Theon nodded in approval of Jon’s response. Personally, if he were in Robb’s position, he’d be hard as a rock by then and he knew it. He was amazed by Robb’s restraint and self control- or maybe he just was repulsed by Theon, but Theon was sure it was the former. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt something against his ass. He turned his head and gave Robb a knowing look, his smug grin widening. “You committed,” he said again.

Robb's cheeks reddened. "I didn't think ahead," he said. "My mistake. I should have known you'd be a twat."

Theon’s facial expression resembled that of a kid in a candy store. “Me? A twat? Now that’s not very nice, Robb.” He pushed his ass all the way back on Robb’s lap, finally sitting still, right on top of Robb’s crotch.

"Should I say 'cunt'?" Robb mimicked the way the Hound always said it, with that gravelly voice.

"Robert!" Catelyn scolded from the driver's seat. From what Robb could see of her face in the rearview mirror, she looked horrified.

"Sorry, mom," he said sheepishly.

“You wish I had one,” Theon shot back, a bit quieter. It wasn’t like he cared if Catelyn heard, but she was a bit of a motherly figure to him, and the kids were all in the car.

He was vaguely aware of Arya asking, “What’s so bad about the word cunt?” and the exasperated sigh from Catelyn in response.

"Why would I want that?" Robb lowered his voice as well, so it was soft and husky in Theon's ear. "If I wanted to fuck you, you wouldn't need a cunt."

Theon froze up completely, not liking the way Robb’s voice sent blood flowing straight to his groin. There was one thought in his head, and it was ‘oh no.’ God damn Robb, the golden child, for having a sexy fucking voice and whispering something so filthy into his ear. It was natural, his reaction, anyone would’ve had it, his cock now half-hard in his pants- which were thankfully already so tight that there wasn’t really any room to show the change.

“Drowned God, Robb!” Theon finally snapped, face flushing. He didn’t move to get up, not wanting to be suspicious, but if Robb whispered at him again he was worried he’d lose his mind.

"What's the matter? That's where you were going with it, right?" He gave a low chuckle, amused at himself, and his breath puffed over the shell of Theon's ear.

Theon had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before hissing his response. “I was joking, I wasn’t trying to seduce you!” He almost shivered at the way Robb’s breath felt on his skin, shifting uncomfortably on his lap.

"Don't worry, then," Robb whispered. "You didn't." He leaned back on that note, acting now as though nothing had been said between them. Theon would have liked nothing more than to slap Robb Stark across the face right then and there. He turned his head to glower at him.

Jon looked at the two, vaguely confused but also somewhat aware of what was happening. “You guys okay?”

"Yeah, of course. Theon's just being Theon." Robb shrugged. Catelyn pulled the van around into the driveway, parking it in its spot next to Robb's coupe.

“You’re a cunt.” Theon retorted, climbing out of the car after Sansa and helping Robb and Jon to get Bran out before following Robb inside and up to his room.

After having tossed his schoolbag on the floor and his jacket on his bed, Robb headed for the door again. "I'm going to go shower, all right? You know where everything is."

“Yeah, yeah.” Theon stripped to his boxers and flopped onto the bed, playing on his phone until Robb left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching from tues&fri to mon wed fri (-:

Robb was in the shower, Theon was alone in the room, and his cock was half-hard. There was only one way the situation was gonna go, and it was Theon laying back on the bed, underwear pulled down and cock in hand. He groaned softly at the feeling of his own fingers around his cock, using the precome seeping out of his slit to lubricate his hand as he moved it up and down. He was fully hard in no time, biting his lip to stay quiet, hips bucking up against his hand. When he came after less than five minutes, he was shocked. It was mind-blowing, his head thrown back and eyes shut, mouth open in a silent cry. Afterwards, he’d stared wide-eyed at his own cock, semen spilt onto his own stomach.

It wasn’t the way the bed smelled like Robb, no, how the blankets and sheets and pillows smelled like his soap mixed with his natural scent, how he knew that Robb had fucked in that bed before, had jerked off in that bed before. It was just a very comfortable bed, and he was very comfortable and relaxed. That’s why he came so embarrassingly quick. He quickly went to work cleaning himself up with the tissues on Robb’s nightstand, throwing them in the trash after. He pulled up his boxers, laying back down on top of the blankets, and pulled out his phone.

His phone made the small noise that signaled a new message, and he opened it, not recognizing the number. ‘Careful.’ was all it said. Theon furrowed his eyebrows and deleted the message, going back to scrolling through his social media and trying to act normal.

The flush on his cheeks was mostly gone by the time Robb re-entered the room. “Hey man.” Theon greeted, not looking up from his phone.

"Hey," he said in return. He was wearing his jeans again but had foregone the sweater, and dampness still clung to his chest. His hair was fluffed up in the way it got when he didn't put product in it. Robb flopped down on the bed next to Theon and closed his eyes with a tight sigh.

When Theon did look up, he may have stared at Robb for a moment too long, something in his chest twitching at the sight of his hair all fluffy and curled. His gaze trailed down to his bare chest, just the right amount of dark hair on it and trailing down, past his navel and leading down to... the waistband of his jeans. Theon quickly tore his gaze away, leaning back as well. “Tired?”

"Yeah," he murmured. "I could go to sleep right now. You?"

Theon shrugged, turning onto his side and looking at Robb, who’s eyes were still closed. “I’m always down for a nap, dude. You know that.”

"Yeah..." he said sleepily. "I think I'm going to." He rolled onto his side, facing Theon, and his dark eyes blinked open. "Can you hand me a pillow?"

Theon stared back at him for a minute before nodding and passing him a pillow, pulling up one of the blankets over them. “Did you want the blanket?”

"No, thanks." He yawned, turning onto his back again. His chest rose and fell with the force of it. "I'm still warm from the shower."

“Lame.” Theon shrugged, pulling the one half off of Robb and wrapping it around himself. “More for me then.”

"Mmm," Robb hummed, already half asleep. "Everything for Lord Theon."

Theon, for once in his life, couldn’t fall asleep. He waited until Robb’s breathing slowed and evened out before carefully getting out of bed, making sure not to wake him. He threw back on his jeans but didn’t bother with a shirt, walking down the hall. He stopped when he heard noise from behind a door- Jon’s door. He slowly stepped up to it, pressing his ear up to listen.

‘I want to kiss you. Down there. Want to make you scream for me,’ from Jon.

There a softer, more feminine voice responding, ‘As if you could. You know nothing, Jon Snow.’

‘You’ll take that back when I’m eating you out, and again when I fuck you so hard it’ll bruise your tailbone.’

That didn’t even make sense. Theon snickered to himself and opened the door. “Hey Jon- oh, are you busy?” He acted as if he were surprised to see Jon holding his phone in front of him, hand working at his cock beneath the blankets. “Phone sex line, huh?”

"Get out!" Jon snapped, immediately hanging up the call, face redder than Theon had ever seen it. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you even want?"

Theon gasped in mock surprise, lifting a hand up to cover his heart. “What’s wrong with me? I just wanted to visit my dearest friend, Jon Snow.” His expression twisted into a wide smirk. “You hung up? How’re you planning to get off now? Gonna try and seduce me?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Jon seized a pillow and chucked it at him, striking Theon in the face. "Fuck off, Greyjoy! Go suck my brother's cock and leave me alone!"

Theon caught the pillow as it bounced off from his face, staring at Jon in actual shock. “Why the fuck would I be sucking Robb’s dick?”

"I don't know, probably the same reason you fuck yourself to the thought of him!" Jon said nastily, no clue if it was even true or not.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” Theon shot back before his face began slowly paling, and then flushing a deep red, realizing that Jon meant it as a general insult and did not actually know about that. “I mean- why would you think that?”

Jon's eyes grew large. "Wha- wait, you... You actually...? Oh, fuck!" Gleefully, he added, "Does he know?"

“No, I don’t! I do not!” Theon insisted, face turning an even deeper red, if that was even possible. “I don’t! Ever. No. You just have a dirty mind and heard me wrong.” He crossed his arms, hugging the pillow to his chest and scowling.

"How do you do it, Greyjoy?" Jon asked, eyes narrowing maliciously. "Do you have a special toy, maybe a rubber cock you can suck and fuck and pretend it's my brother? Or do you use your fingers and your own spit like a filthy whore?"

“Save that talk for the phone sex workers, not me!” Theon groaned, not looking Jon in the face. “Why are you thinking about how I masturbate, huh? Do you get off to that? Maybe you’re the filthy one.”

"At least I'm not the one sleeping in the same bed as my best friend, palming my own cock and trying not to hump him like a horny mutt. Is my brother sleeping right now? Is that why you're in here, bothering me? So you don't lose control of yourself? Very admirable," Jon sneered, "more than expected of a Greyjoy. Especially of you, what with your reputation."

“I’m- I just walked in on you jerking off and you’re making fun of me?” Theon’s voice raised up an octave and he realized how loud he was being. He stepped into the room, closing the door and leaning back against the wall next to it, throwing the pillow at Jon. “And what do you mean, my reputation? I wouldn’t masturbate with Robb in the bed!”

Jon stood up from the bed, talking a challenging step towards Theon. "What about without him in it? You wait until he leaves the room, then you fuck yourself surrounded by the smell of him?"

A small whine escaped Theon’s throat as Jon stepped toward him, unable to look away from Jon’s cock, which was certainly not a chode. It was stupidly thick, thick enough that Theon was pretty sure Jon would rip that red-headed chick in half if he ever fucked her. It was a decent length, too, a little more than average, and he quickly looked back up at Jon. He was thinking way too much about his cock, the way it was slick with precome, flushed and hard. Theon’s own cock was stirring in his pants. “I have not fucked myself in Robb’s room!” he replied, albeit a bit late.

"You're a bad liar, Greyjoy." Jon took another step towards him, so they stood barely a foot apart. "You want to suck my brother's cock. You want my brother to fuck you. Hell, you probably want to fuck my brother."

Theon’s eyes travelled back downward, not able to help it. “Drowned God, Jon,” he managed, voice strained. He wanted that cock in his mouth. He knew that was his own cock talking instead of his brain, but he fucking wanted it. “That’s not a fucking chode. That thing- you could kill a man with that thing.”

"I tried to tell you it wasn't," Jon said with a shrug. "You know, while you were grinding your ass on my brother's cock. You're just a cockslut, aren't you? A whore for the Starks?"

“A whore for the Starks,” Theon repeated without thinking, shifting his gaze from Jon’s cock to his face, and then back down to his cock. “I could be, if you want.” His voice lowered, arousal obvious in his tone.

Jon's cock twitched and he swallowed hard. "I think that's what you want," he rasped, "if we're being honest." However, he didn't back off.

Theon nodded slowly and dropped to his knees, hesitantly wrapping a hand around the base of Jon’s cock. He leaned forward, licking a bead of precome off the head of his cock, shifting his gaze to look up at Jon’s face before wrapping his lips around the head of his cock. Jon gazed down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He leaned forward, resting a hand against the door for balance and grabbing a handful of Theon's hair with the other, tugging slightly at the curls.

He groaned around the head of Jon’s cock, slowly taking more in, amazed that his mouth could open wide enough to even fit it. He let his eyes fall shut, focusing instead on making sure his teeth didn’t touch Jon’s cock and on trying to take more and more into his mouth. The hand in his hair only made his cock throb harder in his pants, and he reached down with his free hand to palm himself through his jeans.

Jon made a low sound, accidentally bucking his hips. Theon's throat twitched violently around his cock. "Fuck," he groaned. "Are you okay?"

Theon didn’t respond, keeping his eyes shut and moaning loudly, not pulling back at all. He’d never sucked a cock before and wasn’t exactly talented at it, but he was eager, and once Jon’s cock was at the back of his throat, he didn’t want to pull off. He shoved his hand down his own pants, using the other to reach around and grab hold of Jon’s hip, pulling him closer to ensure he didn’t pull away.

"Fuck, you're good at this. Are you sure you and Robb haven't done anything? Bet you wish I was Robb, huh? Bet you wish this was Robb's cock down your throat. Fuckin' whore," he gasped, tightening his grip in Theon's hair, barely refraining from fucking into Theon's mouth.

Theon couldn’t help but moan again, his cock was throbbing in his hand. He continued sucking for another minute before slowly pulling off, looking up at Jon. His voice was raspy and heavy with lust. “You can fuck my mouth, if you want.” He took the head of Jon’s cock back into his mouth but none more than that, still staring up at him- challenging him.

Jon lowered his other hand to Theon's head and pushed it down, forcing his cock all the way in. He stepped into him, pushing Theon bodily back so his back was flush against the door, and Jon thrusted deeply into his throat.

Theon was about to come, he could tell by the way the heat pooled and twisted in the pit of his stomach. He knew Jon would tease him relentlessly for coming first when he wasn’t even the one getting his cock sucked, but fuck it felt good- Jon’s cock so hot and heavy in his mouth. Jon holding his head down and fucking into his mouth was almost too much to handle and he had to pull his hand out of his pants to stop himself from spilling too soon.

He let his jaw go slack, moaning like a cheap whore around Jon’s cock and praying none of the other Starks would hear. It was no secret he was a bit of a whore, but for men? For Jon Snow, nonetheless? His cheeks flushed from a mix of breathlessness and embarrassment.

"Don't be too loud," he warned mockingly. "Robb is just down the hall... How would he feel hearing you gasp and moan around my cock in your mouth?" He punctuated this with another hard thrust into Theon's mouth, pulling at his curls and holding his head in place so he couldn't pull back. "How would he feel, seeing you used to get me off? Seeing you wrecked?"

Theon completely lost it at that, feeling Jon’s cock pressed against the back of his throat and hearing that deep, low voice taunting him. He reached back into his pants to wrap his hand around his cock, barely even stroking it before he came, moaning and shuddering, hips bucking up against his hand. He kept his mouth open wide, focusing on the weight of Jon’s cock as he came. His mind blanked for a second in pure bliss, not at all caring how loud he was being.

Jon fisted his hands into Theon's hair and held him still as he came down his throat, groaning lowly. He pulled out, jaw slack and gazing intently, almost nervously at Theon. Excess cum dribbled from Theon's lips and down his chin.

Theon was too blissed to even think, swallowing the cum in his mouth and then panting softly as he darted his tongue out to lick the cum off his lips. He finally spoke after a few moments of silence, and his voice was rough when he did. “You have a filthy mouth, Jon Snow.”

"Look who's talking," Jon said breathlessly. "Have you never done that before? You're a fucking natural."

Theon laughed, grinning at Jon as he slowly got up from the floor, legs a bit wobbly. “No, I’ve never sucked a cock. Is that an insult or a compliment?”

"It's definitely a good thing," Jon promised. He turned away, busying himself with a bundle of tissues to clean up, and pulling up his pants. He offered Theon the tissues, a questioning look in his eyes.

Theon pretended he wasn’t flattered and looked at the tissues, waving his hand dismissively at the offer. “Nah, man, it’s soaked into my underwear, I’m gonna have to wash them. There’s no cleaning that shit up with tissues.”

"Good point," he muttered, and set the box back down. He looked down, then back up at him almost sheepishly. "So, uh..." he trailed off eloquently.

“We’re never speaking of this again.” Theon was blunt, it was one of his best and also worst traits. “And we’re never doing this again. And don’t get all girly and shit and get attached to me, because I am not going to buy you flowers and take you out to dinner.”

"Fuck, no. I was going to say the same thing," Jon sniffed, and gave him a look. "You might want to shower, too, unless you want Robb to find out. Who knows, he might bend you over and fuck you out of sheer jealousy."

Theon let out a shameless groan and turned to glare at Jon. “Stop talking like that, I do not want another hard-on right after I just fucking creamed my pants, dude.” He then paused. “Also, don’t tell Robb all that shit about me jerking off to him and whatever, alright?”

Jon's gaze softened. "Of course I won't, I'm not an asshole. It's not really my business when you guys finally fuck, is it? Just cut it out with all that homoerotic shit when you're sitting next to me. I don't really care much for seeing my brother get horny."

Theon couldn’t help but snicker. He was about to leave but paused, moving his hand off the doorknob and turning back around to face Jon. “Hey- actually. Do you by any chance know of any guys that Robb has fucked?”

"Not by name, no. Why? He told you about him?" Jon asked curiously. "He doesn't like talking about it."

“Drowned fuck,” Theon cursed. “So he wasn’t just making up some crazy story, huh?”

"No," Jon said, almost apologetically. "If it helps, it didn't end nicely. It was never a real relationship, but it was an ugly split."

“I’m his best friend! He didn’t even tell me he was almost in a relationship!” Theon fumed, now more focused on the fact that Robb had kept something like that a secret than he was on his jealousy. “But he told you?!”

"No, he didn't tell any of us. I caught them." It wasn't a good explanation, but it was all Jon had. "It was only a week after that they split up."

Theon made an angry noise, giving himself a minute to calm down before he turned back to the door, opening it. “By the way- you never said anything about not mentioning the phone sex line.” His normal lopsided grin was back on his face. “Bye, Jon Snow.” He shut the door and bolted down the hall to Robb’s room before Jon could reply.

Once in Robb’s room, Theon headed right for his stuff, which Robb had so kindly emptied one of his dresser drawers for. He rummaged through for a bit, settling on a faded shirt that advertised a nearby seafood restaurant- 'Come to Pyke for the Best Fish in Westeros!'- and a pair of baggy pants before heading back toward the door to shower.

"Bastard!" Jon swore hypocritically, and punched the door with loud bang.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just warning y’all in advance that this fic is gonna be longgggg

By the time Theon was out of the shower, Robb had awoken from his nap and was sitting up on the bed, scrolling through something on his phone.

"Hey," he greeted as Theon walked into the room. "You showered."

“Yeah, I did,” Theon replied nonchalantly, realizing that it was a little uncomfortable looking at Robb right after he sucked his Jon’s cock and got off on him calling him a whore and taunting him about how much he wanted to fuck Robb. He grimaced a little bit but went to flop down next to Robb on the bed, pulling out his own phone and checking his messages, seeing a couple from various women that he’d basically ghosted.

"Did you sleep a bit too?" Robb asked, casually and totally oblivious.

“Sure,” Theon answered, sounding pretty normal for someone who’d just had their throat pounded relentlessly.

"Clearly not much, you looked drained," Robb remarked, amused. He looked up at Theon, really looked at him, and became instantly concerned. "Are you okay? You look like you've cried."

Theon couldn’t help it; he snorted in the process of trying not to laugh. “Nah man, I just swallowed some water and choked on it in the shower like an idiot.” It wasn’t a complete lie- he had choked on something and swallowed something, but neither thing was water and it hadn’t been done in the shower.

"Oh, okay." He was relieved, and maybe he had been worried because of what had happened still so recently. Was it stupid to be worried because of it? Robb didn't think so; it was totally reasonable for Theon to shed tears over it.

“Wanna know why I showered?” Theon grinned wickedly, not waiting for him to reply. “I walked in on Jon wanking it to some phone sex hotline. On speakerphone. It was nasty, dude, watching him play with his chode. I had to wash the memory off.”

"Oh, come on. Leave the poor guy alone. That can't be true." Robb leaned back against the headboard, so stupidly casual and relaxed, looking skeptical. "Jon isn't the type and you know it."

“I’m not kidding! He was!” Theon sat up, pouting down at Robb. “Why ever would I lie to you, my dearest, most cherished friend?”

"Because you're bored and you think it's funny?" Robb suggested with a cocked eyebrow.

“I’m not lying!” Theon whined. “It’s not even that crazy of a story, it’s not like I’m saying I sucked his cock or something ridiculous like that. It’s literally just a phone sex line, Robb, I’m serious.”

"Yeah, mhmm. Also, don't talk about sucking my brother's cock. That's my brother." Robb pulled a face, clearly not wanting to think about that.

Theon instantly grinned. Telling Theon Greyjoy not to talk about something was very much likely to make him do the exact opposite. He snickered as he launched into his speech. “Oh but Robb, his cock is so short but so thick, it was like trying to fit my mouth around an apple, but oh-“ He faked a moan, high pitched and exaggerated, “It tasted so good, Robb, especially when he came in my mouth, it was like the sauce coming out of the apple. Applesauce. I bet you can still taste it on my lips, wanna see?” He leaned in teasingly, purposely making Robb as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

Robb put a hand on Theon's face and pushed him back. "Ew. No thanks. You can leave now. Go sleep with your new lover, but please keep it down."

Theon snickered, flopping back onto the bed to lay down next to Robb. “I was serious about the phone sex thing, though.”

Robb turned onto his side, facing Theon. "Sure he wasn't talking to his redhead?" he suggested.

When Robb turned, Theon did as well. “Nah. No way he could get a girl like that to fuck him.” He shook his head. “And the way they were talking? He’s a talker, Jon Snow. If it was her, she’s gonna have to gag him when they fuck.”

"Hm. Maybe he's into it," Robb said. "Who knows. Hopefully it really isn't a phone sex line. I'd be so disappointed in him."

“Aw, you don’t want your bastard brother to have any fun?” Theon teased.

"Fun with a real girl, sure," Robb disagreed. "Not that, that's stupid. And it racks up the phone bill."

The phone bill.

Theon almost cackled. “Don’t worry, I’ll warn Catelyn of the extra charges,” he promised.

Robb sighed. "Theon, really, if you're making it up, just let it go. Don't bring my mother into it too."

“I’m not making it up!” Theon insisted. “He’s probably calling it again now to get off because I interrupted him earlier.”

"Oh, but you sucked his cock, right? That's what you said," he teased. "Unless you're bad at it, he shouldn't need to."

Theon snorted, having enough self control to not do anything that might let it slip that, yes, that’s exactly what he did. “Oh, just horrible. I nearly bit the thing off.”

"I'll keep that in mind," Robb laughed, "and warn anybody you might end up with in the future."

“Keep it in mind, huh?” Theon flashed him a wide grin, purposely showing off his teeth. 

"Yeah, so your future boyfriend knows what he's getting himself into! Wouldn't want any dickless men walking around, scorned and depressed."

It was darkening outside, and subsequently in the room as the dying sunlight no longer filtered through the window.

Theon waggled his eyebrows. “Do you wanna become a dickless man?” he teased, eyes glinting in the dim yellow light of the room.

"I definitely would not," he said firmly. "I've talked to Varys, and I don't want to go there."

“Such a shame. I’ve grown to like biting cocks off.” Theon sighed as if dismayed, holding a hand to his forehead.

"Maybe you should find a new hobby?" Robb suggested sarcastically. "Maybe don't bite?"

“Oh Robb, my best friend, my dearest lad- aren’t you supposed to be supportive of my hobbies and interests?” Theon pouted, sticking out his lower lip.

"I think it's okay for me to draw the line when it comes to maiming people... Now, if it were just sucking cock?" Robb nodded sagely. "I can support that. Safe fun."

“Do you take me for a cock sucker?” Theon once again went with being dramatic, acting as if he was distraught by the accusation that hadn’t even been spoken.

"A little bit, yeah," Robb said with a smirk. "I think everybody is, in their heart."

“Are you trying to tell me something, Lord Stark?” he teased.

"Depends. Do you think I am?" Robb definitely was, but he was a little curious to see how long Theon would insist on being a top.

“I think you’re saying that you like sucking cock. That’s awfully gay of you.” Theon propped up an elbow on the bed, resting his head against his hand.

"Look who's talking. You're yanking your dick out everywhere and showing it off," Robb pointed out.

Theon pretended to be offended. “It’s a nice cock! It’s beautiful! Girls faint at the sight of it!”

"Name one girl who has," Robb challenged, unimpressed.

“Jeyne Poole.” Theon immediately replied with a smug look on his face. “She was kinda sick when it happened, but still. It counts.”

"Oh, come on, Sansa's friend? Really, Thee?" Robb sighed. Before Theon could answer, there was a knock on the door, and Catelyn poked her head in.

"Boys? Dinner is ready, if you're hungry."

“Oh fuck yeah.” Theon responded instinctively, pausing when he realized Catelyn was still there. “Sorry, Mrs. Stark.” he said sheepishly, his lopsided smile wide on his face.

She smiled warmly at him. "We're having grilled mutton chops." Everybody knew it was Theon's favorite, and it was the least she could do to welcome him home.

Theon’s smile instantly grew, practically radiating joy. He loved mutton. Mutton pizza, half mutton pizza, normal mutton- he was a big fan. “Robb, are we going down to eat?”

"Yes, of course," Robb chuckled. "I wouldn't dare keep you from your mutton."

Theon quickly got up from the bed, luckily already fully clothed. He left the room before Robb, getting down to the kitchen table as quickly as he could, taking a deep breath. It smelled of freshly cooked food, a smell he wasn’t used to in the Greyjoy household. His mother was basically a walking dead person and his father didn’t care for his kids enough to ever cook for them. Yara sometimes had cooked and so had he, but the Starks ate dinner together every night, and it was always Catelyn’s cooking.

He was there enough to know where all the Starks sat and noted there was an extra chair to the right of Sansa, where Robb always sat. He sat in the chair next to her. Everyone was at the table except Robb and Jon. Catelyn day at the head of the table, Rickon and Bran seated in opposing seats closer to her. Jon was seated opposing Robb’s chair, closest to Ned, Arya between him and Rickon. Robb entered the room just as Theon sat, followed by Jon. Jon slid into his seat across from Robb, gaze sliding over to Theon, trying to beg him without words to not to rat him out. Robb, on the other hand, merely offered a guileless smile as he sat down next to Theon. Catelyn was passing around the platter of mutton, as well as a dish of garlic mashed potatoes. A pitcher of iced water sat in the middle of the table.

Theon happily piled food onto his plate, not really caring if he seemed greedy. There was plenty of it, and none of the Starks ever seemed to care how much he ate. “Thank you.” He smiled down at Catelyn, a genuine smile without a hint of mischief. He took a bite and closed his eyes, pleased. “It’s delicious.”

"That's good to hear," Catelyn said with a light laugh. "There's plenty of it, so eat up!" Privately, she had always thought Theon to be too skinny, not exactly underweight but far from the healthy build her own boys (and Jon) possessed.

Theon flashed a grin to Robb as well, shoveling some of the mashed potatoes into his mouth as well. It was amazing to eat real food, and he kept eating, barely looking up again until he cleared his plate, adding more food onto it. He was hoping for someone to mention phones or phone bills.

"Cat," Ned began, swallowing down a mouthful of potatoes. "We need to talk to them about the water bill."

"Oh, yes." Catelyn set down her fork and knife, looking very serious. "Sansa, you have to start taking shorter showers, or at least cut down to one a day."

"You taking two forty minutes showers daily isn't working out," Ned agreed.

"At least I shower!" Sansa protested. "Arya barely showers!"

“I take less showers so you can take more!” Arya snapped, stabbing her fork into her mutton. “You should thank me!”

“She has a point, Mr. Stark,” Theon agreed. “If Arya isn’t showering, but Sansa is taking two showers a day, it’s just taking up the same amount of time as if they both took one.”

"Call me Ned, Theon. And you're right, if it was about the quantity of the showers, but it's more so the fact that Sansa takes such long showers."

"Honey, even if you switched to a nighttime bath and took shorter morning showers, it would be a great help."

Sansa considered this. "Could I get some bath bombs?"

"Of course you can."

"Okay," she agreed readily.

“And the phone bill, it was much higher than usual this month. If we could all cut down on the calls, that would be a big help.” Catelyn smiled warmly at them.

Theon slowly put his fork down, giving Jon a look that no one else saw before looking to Catelyn with a straight face, innocence in his expression. “I don’t mean to be crude at the dinner table, Mrs. Stark, but I think it might help if Jon here cut down on his calls to the phone sex lines.”

Robb roared with laugher and Jon's jaw dropped. "Wha- I don't-!" he protested.

Catelyn looked sharply at Jon. "Excuse me?"

“I walked in on it today.” Theon said with a deep sigh of disapproval. “I don’t mean to talk about this kind of thing around the kids, but I think it’s important for you to know.” He nodded his head, giving her a sympathetic look. Arya hid her smirk behind a large mouthful of meat. Sansa looked torn, clearly amused but sure she was supposed to be scandalized.

"I don't, that's not what-"

"Don't lie, Jon," Ned sighed, looking so thoroughly done with everything. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing again. "If you're going to do shit like that, you can pay your own phone bill, okay?"

“Sorry to ruin the mood of dinner, Mr. Stark- Ned.” Theon apologized, sounding very sincere for someone who wasn’t sincere at all. He cast a smug look in Jon’s direction when no one was looking. Jon shot him a foul glare. He couldn't fess up, not yet anyways, but now his family thought he was a desperate pervert. He was itching to out Theon—how wonderful would the look on his face be? The look on Robb's face?—but he didn't dare. He, at least, promised. Ned said nothing, only shook his head. He picked up his silverware again, signalling that all he needed to say had been said.

Theon finished his dinner around the same time as everyone else and stood up. “Thank you, Mrs. Stark, it was wonderful. I hate to be the first to leave, but I have homework to do.” He carried his plate over the sink to rinse it off before putting it in the dishwasher. He shot Jon one last smug look before heading up the stairs to Robb’s room. Jon followed suit, clearing his dishes before storming up the stairs after Theon. He seized him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him aside, pinning him to the wall.

"What the hell was that? I thought we had a deal!" Jon snarled.

Theon was breathless for a moment, staring at Jon in surprise- surprise at being manhandled like that and at how hot Jon looked when he was angry. If Jon was trying to get him hot and bothered again, he was succeeding.

“I never promised not to mention the phone.” A grin spread across his face, replacing the expression of shock that had been there just a moment before. “You’re a fool to think I’d keep quiet, Jon Snow.”

A rumbling growl announced his presence a moment before Ghost's enormous form slunk out from Jon's room, head dipped low, teeth bared. He stalked around behind Jon and came to a halt at his side, eerie red eyes staring unblinkingly up into Theon's. Jon's hand fell to Ghost's head, ruffling the fur between his ears.

"You're an asshole, Greyjoy," he spat, and what a picture he made, standing inches before Theon in that tight black v-neck and jeans, with his black curls framing his face.

Theon froze up at the sight of Ghost, grin slowly falling from his face at the dog’s expression. He swallowed hard, looking back to Jon. He could feel the heat crawling on his skin, under his skin, blood flowing to his face and also to his groin. Jon looked so good, it was unfair. He could see part of his chest, beautifully sculpted, his face so fucking pretty, those curls so dark and handsome. Theon’s cock was hard in his pants, and he was starting to get mad at his dick for how responsive it was being. It probably had something to do with him finally accepting he was attracted to men. He did not appreciate the uncomfortable straining between his legs.

Jon quirked an eyebrow. "Uh? Earth to Greyjoy?" He lifted his hand off Ghost's head after a final pat and snapped his fingers in front of Theon's face. "You're drooling, Greyjoy."

Theon’s face flooded a deep, deep red and he glared at Jon. “I am not. I’m just startled by your huge fucking di-dog.” He swiftly corrected himself, hoping Jon didn’t notice.

"My di-dog?" Jon smirked. "What's a di-dog, Greyjoy?" He moved in closer, nose to nose with Theon.

“I forgot how to say dog,” Theon replied lamely, trying to scoot back a bit and remembering he was already against the wall.

"Are you sure? Cause I think you were thinking about something else," he murmured, and his hand trailed dangerously low, brushing light against the bulge in Theon's jeans.

Theon went still, narrowing his eyes into a glare. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? Pervert.” He tried not to show how the light touch affected him, trying not to shift his hips toward the touch. “I just mispronounced dog.”

Jon grasped Theon's bulge and squeezed gently. "I'd try and believe what you're saying before you try and pass it off as truth."

Theon groaned, his angry expression wavering as he tried to keep quiet. “Jon Snow, we are in the middle of the hallway.” He spoke through gritted teeth. The last thing he needed was Robb walking up and seeing them.

"Guess you'll have to keep quiet then, hm?" Jon hummed, apparently doing his utmost to jack off Theon from outside his clothes.

“That’s not fair.” Theon tipped his head back to rest it against the wall, eyes half-shut, hips twitching. “Drowned fucking God, Jon Snow.”

Jon leaned in, lips skimming over the pale curve of Theon's exposed throat. "Life isn't fair, Greyjoy. We would know that better than anyone."

Theon hissed, tilting his head to expose more of his throat. “You can’t fucking grope me in the middle of the- ah- hallway.” His cock was throbbing in his pants, aching to be touched without the layers of clothing covering it.

"Why not? Scared Robb will see?" He slipped his hand down past the waistband of Theon's jeans, into his underwear, and grasped his leaking cock. "Scared he'll see what a whore you are?"

“Fuck, Jon, fuck, what if Ned or Catelyn walks up here?” Theon was almost panting, thrusting up into Jon’s hand, eyes fluttering shut. “Or one of the kids?”

"Keep quiet and they won't," he said. He brushed his thumb over the head of Theon's cock, spreading the precum to use as lubricant. "Or is that too hard for a needy slut like you?"

“I’m not- fuck.” Theon cursed again, getting close from the feeling of Jon’s hand around his cock- hands soft but still firm and strong. “Jon, I can’t...” he trailed off, biting down on his lip. He was noisy, and they were in a spot where he had nothing to hide his face in and no walls to muffle any noise. Jon, ever the courteous boy, leaned in and shut Theon up with his lips. Theon moaned into his mouth as Jon nipped at his lower lip, tasting the sweet metallic tang of blood. His grip tightened on Theon's cock and it twitched in his fist.

Theon was moaning like a slut now that he had Jon’s mouth to muffle it, now bucking his hips without shame. He was so close, so fucking close. Pleasure was pooling in the pit of his stomach, swirling and heavy, cock throbbing in Jon’s grip. “Fuck, Jon, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” he moaned against the bastard’s lips.

Immediately, Jon withdrew his hand from Theon's pants and stepped away. "Well, I hate to be the first to leave, but... I have homework to do," he mocked with a nasty smirk. "C'mon, Ghost." He patted his leg twice and strode off, Ghost trailing at his heels.

Theon didn’t even protest, staring after him, slack-jawed. His lips were puffy and red from the rough kissing, a split in the bottom one leaving a tiny smear of blood down his chin. His shirt was pushed up and his pants were pushed just a bit down his hips, his cock so hard and throbbing it was almost painful. He snapped out of his dazed trance when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly ran over to Robb’s room, fumbling to zip his pants and straighten out his clothes before jumping onto Robb’s bed and lying on his stomach to hide his boner.

Robb entered with a long-suffering sigh, flopping down on the bed next to Theon. "I swear, it's like Arya's never seen an equation before. I had to walk her through that question six times." He glanced over at Theon curiously. "Didn't you say you have homewo— what happened to your lip?"

“Jon punched me in the face,” Theon lied casually, which would be the truth if punching was done with lips. “And yeah, I have homework, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it.” He turned his head to look at Robb but didn’t move otherwise.

"Hm. Well, maybe you deserved it, but that does look bad." He trailed his thumb gently over Theon's lip, examining the cut. "Did you bite your lip when he punched you? This looks like a clean cut."

“Yeah, that’s what happened.” Theon nodded in agreement, shivering a tiny bit when Robb’s thumb touched his lip. His whole body was hypersensitive, craving to be touched.

"Be careful," Robb said, dragging his thumb down Theon's lip and through the smear of blood, wiping it off. "I don't like seeing you bleed."

Theon almost whined but held back, laughing a little instead. “Hey man, I’m fine. I can handle a little split lip.”

"I know," Robb said. "But you're my friend." He looked away, up at the ceiling, and tried and failed to stifle a yawn. "You should at least do your homework, if you're not going to go to class. We can't have you failing."

Theon shrugged in a way that could be considered agreement and put his head down for a few minutes, waiting until he was completely relaxed before turning onto his side to look at Robb, who seemed rather tired. “It’s not like my old man ever expected me to graduate anyway. I can just join the Marines or something.” He failed to mention that both his brothers had joined the Marines and died because of it. Robb knew it already, and Theon didn’t feel the need to elaborate.

"Who cares what he expected of you? You're so much better than him. You're so much more than he ever was, or ever will be. Don't follow in his footsteps just because that's what you always thought you would do. You can do whatever you want to do," Robb said encouragingly. He put a comforting hand on Theon's shoulder and squeezed.

“So I can drop out of school and spend the rest of my life lying in bed with a hot girl’s cunt wrapped around my cock?” Theon joked, a smile on his face that didn’t fully reach his eyes.

"No. There's only six months left, you're finishing school. Afterwards we'll get an apartment, wherever you want, and just be happy," Robb promised, his eyes dark and solemn.

Theon groaned in annoyance and pressed his face back into the pillow, not responding except for a few muffled complaints. He found himself too comfortable to move, and was soon drifting off to sleep. Robb looked fondly at him. He carefully got out of bed and changed into his pajamas, stopping to let Grey Wind into the room before he climbed back in bed next to Theon. The wolfdog looked sadly between the two of them, seeing Theon sprawled across half of the bed, leaving no room for him. He curled up instead on the rug in front of the bed, laying down his massive head with a weary sigh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is likely the shortest chapter in the fic hdhdhdhd sorry y’all

It was past midnight, not that the youngest Stark cared to look at the clock- he wasn’t very good at reading time- he was only six, after all. He’d just woken from a nightmare, tears pouring from his wide blue eyes, shaking with fear as he walked down the hall from his room to Robb’s. His socks muffled his footsteps as he hurried his pace, reaching the room after what felt like forever and knocking softly at the door. He stood there shaking and crying, Shaggydog following behind him, waiting for Robb to open the door. When the door finally did open, Rickon let out a tiny sob and lifted his arms. “Pick- pick me up?”

Robb bent down without a word, picking the boy up and wrapping him in his arms. He carried him to the bed and sat down, stroking Rickon's soft hair. Shaggydog sat next to Grey Wind on the rug, watching intently.

"What's the matter, buddy?" Robb asked softly.

Rickon hid his face against Robb’s chest, curling up in his big brother’s lap. “Nightmare,” he mumbled, his tears still pouring and soaking into the fabric of Robb’s pajama shirt. “D-daddy and Sansa and Ary all l-left.” He hiccuped. “An... and you and m-mom didn’t want me anymore! And Shaggy left t-too!”

"Oh, buddy...." Robb whispered. He pulled Rickon into a tight hug. "Daddy's not going anywhere... Neither are Sansa or Ary. And mommy loves you, so much. So do I, and Jon. You know that, right?"

Rickon nodded a tiny bit, wrapping his small arms around Robb as best he could and squeezing tightly. “I don’t want anyone to g-go.”

"I know, Rickon. Nobody's going anywhere. We're all going to here for you forever," he said soothingly. "I promise."

“What about when you die?” Rickon questioned softly. “Y-you’re so much older than me, I don’t want you to go! I don’t want you to!” His voice raised in volume and he was crying again, hiding his face back against Robb’s chest.

Robb looked pained, but he carried on. "You won't have to worry about that for a long time, Rickon. And you'll have Shaggy, no matter what!"

Theon, who’d woken when Rickon first came in, finally sat up in bed, looking over to Robb and the baby Stark. “Hey, Rickon.” Theon spoke softly, reminded of when he was a child and had no one to go to.

Maron and Rodrik were shit brothers. He remembered as a child he’d tried to go to them after nightmares, or during storms. Maron would mock him, tell him scary stories to make him feel worse. Rodrik was always drunk, laughed at him the one time he tried to come to him for comfort, hit him hard and told him to man up. Yara was alright, she didn’t laugh or hit him or mock him, but she didn’t know how to comfort him either. She’d just tell him he was fine and to go back to sleep. He never even tried to go to Balon for comfort. His mother- she was perfect. She loved him so, would hold him in her arms and whisper kind things to him, sing soft songs, make sure he wasn’t scared anymore by the time he went back to sleep. And then his brothers died, and she became an empty shell of a person. She didn’t care for her baby boy anymore. She was so full of hurt and pain, eyes open but practically unseeing. It was hard, being eight years old and practically losing your mother.

“Rickon, look at me,” Theon said softly, smiling a little when the baby Stark turned, side of his head still pressed to Robb’s chest, but eyes wide and blue and staring up at him. “You’re right. Everyone dies. But not for a long, long time. Your family loves you, little Rickon, and they’re not going to leave you, okay? And neither will Shaggy. Shaggy is gonna protect you from anything that wants to hurt you.”

He reached out, ruffling Rickon’s hair as those big blue eyes stared at him.

“Shaggy is gonna protect you, just like Grey Wind and Ghost and Lady and Summer and Nymeria are all going to protect your brothers and sisters.”

“What about you?” Rickon’s bottom lip trembled, but the tears had stopped falling.

“Well, I’ve got your big bro Robb to protect me," Theon teased, gap-toothed smile on his face as he reached out and patted Robb on the head.

"I'll be his wolf," Robb said with a gentle smile. "Now, how would you feel about sleeping in here with us tonight? Would that help?"

“It works, ‘cause you’re so hairy," Theon teased Robb, relieved when Rickon let out a tiny giggle.

“Yes, please.” Rickon nodded quickly, looking from Theon up to Robb. “I wanna sleep here, please. With Shaggy.”

"All right," Robb said. "Let's get this sorted out then." He patted the bed and Grey Wind leaped up, curling up at the head of the bed, on top of the pillows. Shaggydog did the same, curling up next to Grey Wind, resting his head on Grey Wind's shoulder. Robb laid down with his head on his dog's flank, and Theon mirrored him on Shaggydog. Rickon lay between them, one little hand holding Shaggydog's massive paw.

Theon smiled as he watched the youngest of the Stark children close his eyes and quickly drift off to sleep, curled up between him and Robb and holding onto Shaggy dog’s paw. It was adorable, and Theon’s heart swelled a bit in his chest. He reached down to gently comb his fingers through the boys hair, making sure he wasn’t having another nightmare.

"Thank you," Robb said almost silently. "I know you-" He broke off, looking awkward. "You know I will, right? Protect you."

Theon paused for a moment, looking up at Robb and shrugging. “I don’t need protection,” he said simply, before turning over to his other side, back to Robb, and closing his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

It was six o'clock on Saturday night, and Robb and Theon were pulling into the parking lot of Davos's Friendly Family Market, the finest all-purpose supermarket in the area. Catelyn had asked them to go pick up a couple of groceries, and DFFM had enough sections that they could amuse themselves in for a time.

Robb parked his coupe in a spot near the Home & Garden entrance. "I think I might get Grey Wind a new collar. He's grown so fast, his old collar is almost too small."

“That’s a good idea,” Theon agreed, blowing his mouthful of smoke out the window, blissfully high. He couldn’t smoke in the Stark house, so he was perfectly eager to go to the store with Robb and take the chance to smoke in the car- even if Robb insisted having the windows open in below freezing temperatures because of it.

"And my mom needed..." He trailed off, looking down at the list in his hand. "Laundry detergent, pads for Sansa, eggs, and meat of our choice. Sounds good. Is there anything you want?"

“Mutton," Theon said instantly, putting the joint out between his thumb and forefinger. Then, as an afterthought, “and condoms.”

"And lube?" Robb asked, rolling his eyes. "We ought to get a ham too, or a chicken."

“Girls don’t need lube, and the bottom can provide it themselves.” Theon waved a hand dismissively. “And okay, ham, chicken, whatever. We should get some, like, cream puffs or whatever. And ice cream.”

"Definitely cream puffs. We'll have to get a lot of those, the kids all love them. Especially Arya." Robb got out of the car and retrieved a loose cart that somebody had neglected to return to the stall.

So much talk about cream and condoms and lube had Theon’s brain twisting words around. He had asked for cream puffs, yes, but what he’d really like from Robb was a cream pie. His cheeks flushed pink at the thought and he willed it away best he could. He did not need to be walking through Davos’s thinking about Robb shooting his load into his ass, no, that was not very ‘Family Friendly.’

He got out of the car, a grin playing on his lips when he saw the cart. He looked at the basket and then back up at Robb, then at the basket again.

Robb caught his gaze and sighed. "Go ahead and get in." Sometimes, dealing with Theon was just like dealing with Arya when she was a little kid.

Theon’s laugh very closely resembled a cackle as he climbed into the cart, sitting with his back against the far end so that he was facing Robb, using either side of the cart as armrests. “It’s a perfect fit.”

"Awesome," he said, rolling his eyes. He maneuvered the cart through the doors, deciding to head straight for the hygiene aisles. They came to a stop in front of a wall of pads, all in different sizes with colorful boxes and expensive price labels. "Hm." Robb was now realizing that he had no idea what brand Sansa liked.

“Yara likes those ones.” Theon pointed to a package that had things like ‘athletic wear!’ and ‘for strong women!’ written on the darkly colored packaging, a woman lifting weights printed on as well.

Robb picked up the box and examined it. "Sansa is neither strong nor athletic..." He set down the box and picked up another box with fancy lettering that advertised comfort and flexibility for everyday usage. "Maybe these?"

Theon shrugged. “Sure. We should get her bath bombs, too, she said something about wanting those. Not that she’ll be taking many baths if she’s on her period.” He snickered.

"Good point," Robb chuckled. He tossed the pads into the cart with Theon, and moved along to the soaps aisle. He grabbed a bottle of his Grey Mists body wash and a bag of floral scented bath bombs. "Want anything in here?"

“She won’t want those,” Theon interrupted. “She likes that Early Morning Tulip scent.” Before Robb could ask how he knew, he was talking again. “One time I accidentally used her shampoo, and she nearly tore my hair out. I remember Early Morning Tulip.”

"All right," Robb said, laughing. His whole face lit up when he laughed, something the Starks all had in common. It was nice. "Early Morning Tulip it is.”

Theon laughed a bit with him, appreciating the way those blue eyes glinted in the fluorescent lighting. “Now, to the detergent and the condoms!”

The sex product aisle was only a couple over from the hygiene section, and Robb pushed Theon along and stopped in front of the condom section. "Which kind?" he asked, leaning on the the push bar of the cart.

“Ugh, too many. You pick.” Theon waved his hand dismissively, eyes scanning the wall. “Just not flavored. Those are nasty.”

Robb browsed the options, disregarding known lesser brands, and picked up a purple box. "Ribbed for his and her pleasure..." he read aloud. "Prelubricated. How do these sound?"

“What kind of dick is ribbed?” Theon wrinkled his nose. “That sounds unnatural. I imagine that would feel like fucking a squid’s tentacle. Are there any, like, normal ones?”

"Yeah, how about these?" He held up a golden yellow box of Dorne brand bareskin condoms.

“Gold. I like it. Sure.” Theon nodded his approval.

"All right. Are we set in here, then?" Robb began to wheel the cart away, past the lubricant and sex toys.

Theon didn’t quite understand why their family friendly supermarket had a sex toy aisle, but he wasn’t complaining. “Robb- Hey- Hey, Robb,” he started, “Look at these- look at these. Dick growing pills. We should get them for Jon.”

Robb picked them up and scrutinized them. "These seem like a sham. Are you sure we shouldn't get him some of these? For his redhead?" He picked up a box of cherry-flavored edible panties and waved them.

Theon snorted loudly, pulling a realistic dildo off the shelf and waggling it at Robb. “Truly arousing, a work of art," he joked, talking about the dildo, not Robb.

Robb shot him a playful grin. "Maybe if you're good, I'll buy you one."

Theon’s face flushed and he laughed, throwing the dildo at Robb. “Pervert. You just wanna watch me use it, don’t you?”

"What if I did?" Robb said, catching the dildo as it bounced off his chest and examining it. "It has good weight to it. You could put on a good show with this."

Theon went even redder, spluttering for a moment. “Hey! I’m not living with you so that you can watch me fuck myself, you perv!” He didn’t actually sound angry, more amused and maybe a bit aroused at the thought of Robb watching him do something so obscene.

Robb put his hands up in mock surrender. "All right, if you don't want it..." He set the dildo back in the basket with the rest of them.

“It’s just not as big as Jon’s,” Theon taunted, feigning disappointment with a loud sigh. “My ass would feel so empty.”

"That's disgusting," Robb gagged. "Don't talk about having my brother's dick up your ass."

Theon held back a laugh and then feigned an annoying moan. “But oh, Robb, it feels so good...”

"Theon, I swear to all the gods that I will leave you here and go home by myself," threatened Robb, cheeks flaming red.

“What, are you jealous? Do you wanna fuck me in the ass instead, fill me up better than anyone else ever could?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I would like to stop this conversation now," Robb said, trying to pretend as though the delicious mental images those words inspired weren't circulating in his brain.

“Wish you could shut me up, huh?” Theon continued to tease, grinning at Robb. Revenge for the fucking car. “Shove my face into the pillow while you fuck me- or fuck my mouth, make me choke on it. Then I really wouldn’t be able to talk back.”

Robb swallowed hard. Yes, he would... He would like that very much. "Or I could just shove your face into the pillow and smother you with it."

“I mean, if you like fucking dead bodies, sure," Theon said with a shrug before tilting his head back and continuing to lounge in the cart.

Robb shook his head. "Do you want anything else in here or not?" he asked, defeated.

Theon turned his head, stared Robb dead in the eye, grabbed one of the dildos, and dropped it in the cart- all without saying a word, a smug grin on his face. Robb's eyes trailed its descent into the cart, thoroughly unamused. He seized the push bar and wheeled the cart along to the pet supplies section, heading straight to the dog collars. He skimmed over the cheap, thin fabric type with the plastic snap buckles and went for the nice, durable leather collars. After browsing for several moments, he selected a deep blue leather collar with a silver buckle, and a handsome brown one with a bronze buckle.

"Which one?" he asked, turning around to show them to Theon.

“For me?” Theon held a hand to his heart, feigning surprise. “I look best in shades of green, you know that.”

Robb leaned forward and wrapped the brown collar around Theon's throat, buckling it snugly. "I think this looks pretty good, if you ask me," he said lowly, tugging gently at the collar.

Theon’s brain couldn’t process a witty response and he just stared at Robb for a minute before responding in a slightly higher pitched tone tone. “That’s not fair, Robb.” The collar around his throat was just tight enough so that he could feel the pressure, but it didn’t cut off his breathing at all. His cock was stirring in his pants, and he was not appreciating that at all- not in the middle of Davos’s Friendly Family Market.

Robb studied him silently for what felt like forever. His fingers trailed along the edge of the collar, skimming along the smooth skin of Theon's throat. Upon reaching the buckle, he calmly undid it and pulled the collar loose from him neck.

"I think I'll get both of them," he said hoarsely.

“Good idea," Theon replied, watching Robb’s hands as he removed it. He reached up and rubbed at his own neck once it was bare. “I think the blue one will look great on Grey Wind.” His voice was a bit weak and he was trying his best to think with his brain and not his cock.

"I think you're right," Robb said with a forced casualness. He placed both collars in the cart, added a mega-size bag of the dogs' favorite treats, and pushed the cart along to the opposite side of the store, heading for the dairy section.

Theon didn’t speak much for the rest of the time shopping, trying instead to think of gross things instead of Robb’s hands and that collar sitting in the cart in front of him. He got out of the cart before they reached the check out aisle and helped him carry the bags out to the car. They got the bags in, and Theon finally lost his fight against his cock.

He pushed Robb up against the side of the coupe, glad for the dim lighting and emptiness of the parking lot. “You keep fucking- fucking teasing me. Ever since I told you that I came out to my dad. It’s like you’ve been trying to get me hard every chance you get.” He didn’t sound angry, rather, his voice was heavy with lust as he leaned in, face just inches away from Robb’s. “Well you’ve been succeeding, Stark.”

"Have I?" Robb asked expectantly. He shifted his leg so Theon's cock rubbed hard against his thigh, and he laughed under his breath. "Mm, I have. What are you going to do about it?"

“You’re such a fucking tease," Theon hissed before leaning in and kissing him, hard. He groaned at the softness of his lips, grinding slightly against Robb’s thigh.

Robb's hands came up to rest on Theon's waist, leaning into the kiss. It wasn't soft, or sweet, or innocent. It was rough and desperate and needy, a culmination of all the tension and teasing between the two of them. More than once, Robb felt a sharp flash of teeth against his lips, and was sure Theon felt the same. Theon was moaning into Robb’s mouth, one hand reaching around his waist, the other reaching up to lace his fingers in his curly auburn hair. After a minute, Robb pulled back and looked down at Theon with heavy-lidded eyes. His phone was buzzing in his pocket, loud and insistent, and it was with great reluctance that he lowered his hand to retrieve it.

"Hello?" he answered. "Oh- mom? ...yes, we're done. We're heading home now. ...Okay. All right. See you soon. Bye."

Theon whined in annoyance. “We really have to go right now?” He got in the car anyway, not talking much on the short ride home, thinking about the kiss. When they got home he helped Robb with the bags, making sure the dildo and condom bag did not go on the counter with the rest of the groceries.

Catelyn helped them put the few groceries away and then clapped her hands together, looking excited. "Theon, dear, Ned and I have something for you."

“Oh?” Theon turned to her, smiling politely, but the curiosity and excitement was obvious in his voice. “What is it, Mrs. Stark?”

"Come with me," she said, and turned on her heel, leading him up the stairs to the hallway where Robb and Jon's rooms were. Ned waited at the door to the unused guest room.

“Is someone visiting?” Theon tilted his head. He’d never been known for his intelligence.

"No," Ned replied with a shake of his head. "Why don't you go in and see, Theon?"

Theon opened the door and almost forgot to breath. This was not the guest room he remembered, no, it was completely redone. The once beige walls were now a shade of blue-green that reminded him of the sea, the carpet plush and a gentle brown color like sand on a beach. Where there had once been two twin beds, there now sat a single queen sized bed in the center of the room. The duvet matched the walls, but the pillowcases and sheets beneath were white and covered in tiny black squids. They’d even bought new curtains, white to match the white window frames, and they’d painted the previously brown closet door white as well. The best part was the wall behind and above the headboard of the bed. It was covered in photos of Theon with the Starks, from when he’d first met Robb at the age of eight up to a picture they’d taken just a few weeks before. There were pictures of him and Robb at birthday parties, selfies of them, pictures of Theon playing with Bran and Rickon, pictures of Theon with Ned, pictures of him with all the Starks- pictures that could easily be seen as family photos.

He was blinking back tears, his heart feeling as if it were about to burst. His own family never cared for him- no pictures ever taken, much less hung on the walls. He was smiling in every photo on that wall, his lopsided, gap-toothed smile. His favorite photo was one of him and Robb at Robb’s tenth birthday party, both with frosting smeared all over their faces, laughing and smiling wide at the camera with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” he choked out, the words practically a whisper. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes to make sure no tears were falling. “Thank you so much.”

Catelyn wrapped him in a warm hug. "Welcome home, Theon," she whispered. Ned clapped a hand on his shoulder, like a proud father would.

"We're happy to have you," he said.

Theon hugged Catelyn back tightly, blinking back tears. “It means so much. I know- I know I’m a pain in the ass sometimes, but you’ve always let me stay here and, and... just... thank you.” Happy to have him. Home. His family was never happy to have him there, and his home was never really home. The Stark’s house had always been more of a home to him than his own, and now it really was.

"You're like a son to me, Theon," Catelyn said softly.

"You've never been a bother to us," assured Ned. Robb was beaming, standing behind his father and looking upon the scene.

Theon carefully pulled away from Catelyn before giving Ned a hug as well, not caring if it seemed a bit unorthodox. “You’ve always been like parents to me,” he responded before stepping back, smiling sheepishly at both of them.

Ned said nothing, merely tightened the hug briefly before releasing him. He wished Theon a good night before turning to leave the room. Catelyn gazed at him with all the fond love of a true mother.

"Sleep as long as you wish, dear. Breakfast will be ready for you when you wake up." She gave him one last, tight hug and followed after Ned.

Theon waited until they were both gone before turning to Robb, gentle smile turning into a devious smirk as he stepped toward him. “How about we break in that bed, hm?”

Robb suddenly looked awkward. "Theon, I- I need to talk to you about that."

His smirk very quickly turned to a confused frown. “What do you mean?”

Robb moved to the bed and sat down. "I feel like this has all come out of nowhere. We've never- I mean, not like this, not to this extent. I just want to be sure that this is what you really want. You're sure you're not just-" he looked pained saying this, fearful that Theon might take it the wrong way, "rebelling against your father with this? He threw you out and now you're doing whatever the fuck you want as a sort of 'fuck you'? I just... I don't want to be taking advantage of you if you're in that position."

Theon’s frowned deepened, brows furrowing as he listened to Robb speak. He was right. All that shit he’d been doing in the past week or so with Robb and Jon wasn’t normal. He always teased and joked around with everyone, but Robb was his best friend, and Jon was Robb’s brother. He’d just came out to his family, and within the past few days he’d already sucked Jon’s dick and almost gotten fucked by Robb. He didn’t even like Jon.

He groaned softly, walking over to sit next to Robb on the bed. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re right.” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly stressed. “This isn’t normal.” He let out a strained laugh, not looking at Robb. Something twisted painfully in his chest, and he ignored it. “Drowned God, man, what’s wrong with me right now?”

"Nothing's wrong with you, Theon, you're just... A lot has happened and you're just trying to cope with it. There's nothing wrong with you." Robb looked over at him worriedly, wanting to give him a hug but knowing it wasn't the best time to do so.

“It’s like... all this coming out shit has me on edge, and you’re a hot dude and you’re familiar and... I don’t know, maybe I was trying to get it out of my system or some shit?” Theon groaned, resting his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, man. I don’t even know what to say.”

"Don't apologize. You're my best friend, Theon, and I care about you. Don't blame yourself," Robb said soothingly.

“You- were you just kinda going along with my bullshit? To make me feel better?” Theon winced. “And then it went to far- and-“ He cut himself off.

"No, that's not what happened!" Robb said, slightly panicked. "I didn't go along to make you feel better, I wanted to, I just... It's not the time for it."

“You’re right,” Theon sighed. “It’s not. I just need to get all this frustration out of my system. I should call Jeyne or Kyra or something instead of trying to bang my best friend.” He laughed weakly.

"Don't," Robb said softly. "Give yourself a couple of days before you throw yourself into anything."

“I’ve fucked them both before,” Theon said with a shrug. “It’s not like I’m going to get fucked up the ass by some dude I’ve never messed with before.” He gave Robb a pointed look.

Robb sighed. "If that's what you want to do. I heard Ros is visiting soon, too."

“Ros?” Theon perked up a bit. “I haven’t heard from her since she moved. I mean, we’ve texted a few times, but...” He trailed off. He and the redhead had broken up on good terms, it was a mutual decision they made after she told him her family was moving. He didn’t harbor romantic feelings for her anymore, but he would absolutely fuck her again if given the chance, and she had always been so easy to talk to.

"I overheard Baelish talking about it. Apparently he's friends with her parents, so she's staying with him for a couple of weeks while they go on a second honeymoon," Robb explained. "Poor girl."

Theon grimaced at the mention of Baelish. “Littlefinger? She’s staying with fucking Littlefinger? He’s a fucking creep.”

"Yes, but I don't think he would do anything weird," Robb said with a shrug.

Theon looked at Robb with one eyebrow raised. “He’s been trying to get with Sansa since she hit puberty. Your thirteen year old sister," he deadpanned.

"Fair point," he conceded, grimacing. "But he isn't stupid, either. Ros would tell if he did, she doesn't take shit lying down."

“You’re not wrong there.” A sleazy grin slowly made its way onto his face. “She prefers to be propped up on her hands and knees and taken from behind.” He was glad for the change in subject.

Robb couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from his lips. "You would know that, too. She has good taste."

“Fuck, I missed Ros.” Theon sighed happily. “When’s she coming back?”

”Later in the month, I think, and she'll be back for a week or two," Robb replied. "Plenty of time for you guys to... do whatever it is you do."

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” He grinned at Robb. “And man? Thanks for not fucking me.”

"Anytime." Robb patted his shoulder and stood up. "Good night, Thee," he said as he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Most of the week passed by uneventfully, things seeming normal for the first time in the past few days. Theon was skipping English yet again, sitting on a metal bar beneath the bleachers and finishing off a joint. There was no one else there for a change and he felt relaxed, as if even his bones had turned to jelly. He felt good. He was almost dozing off when footsteps startled him back to alertness.

“Yara?”

"Theon?" His sister's face was pinched with worry. "I need to talk to you." She sat down next to him, looking very serious.

“What do you need?” He tried to sound angry, but his voice betrayed him. He sounded as worried as she looked.

"You need to come back home, Theon. I miss you." She looked plaintively at him. "Mom and dad miss you, too. I've never seen mom this bad, not since... You know."

“Why would she care?” Theon’s voice shook but he kept a straight face, a cold expression. “Don’t lie to me, Yara. She never leaves her room. She wouldn’t have even noticed if I left. Drowned God knows she never noticed when I tried to visit her.” He grit his teeth.

How many times had he gone crying to his mother, only to find himself feeling worse than before as he stared at the blank expression on her face? He was the child, he needed his mother’s comforting, and instead he was practically motherless. He knew his mother wouldn’t notice he left. She hadn’t even come to eat with them when he came out.

“And dad? He doesn’t fucking miss me, you know it. He threatened to kill me.”

"You're his only son, Theon! The only son he has left!" she added viciously. "I talked to him about it, and he's willing to let you come home as long as you don't talk about it. He's willing to overlook your blunder, Theon. Accept the chance you're being given."

“My blunder?” he spat, standing up and tossing the joint to the ground, glad it was practically finished anyway. He felt rage pulsing through him, sudden and strong. “My fucking blunder, is that what it is?” Rage and sorrow flashed together in Theon’s eyes, along with betrayal and disappointment, so much hurt showing in his expression. “If I’m his only son, maybe he should have treated me like one instead of treating me like shit for the past ten years. He doesn’t see me as a son. And that house? Our shitty fucking house? That’s never been home, not since before- before-“ He cut off, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before looking back up at her and continuing.

“That house stopped being home the day our brothers died, the day our mother stopped loving us, and you know it. Father would happily kill me if it would bring back Maron or Rodrik.” Theon’s voice steadied itself.

"You don't think he'd do the same to me?" Yara snapped. "I know he doesn't love us, but the least you could do is suck it up and pretend like the rest of us do! Everybody else in this goddamned world has to pretend to be happy when they're fucking miserable! Why don't you get that?"

“He doesn’t love us? Us?” Theon’s voice was growing louder. “He doesn’t love me, he loves you! He sees you as his child, his pride and fucking joy, and I’m the worthless burden that he got stuck with after his two sons died! He loves you, Yara, don’t bullshit me. I’m not fucking moving back. Maybe you want to be stuck feeling miserable in that shitty house, but I have a place that feels like home, and I’ve always had it, and I should’ve moved out a long fucking time ago.”

"But I miss you, Theon!" Yara burst out, rising to her feet and looking ready to kill. "You're my baby brother! You're all I have left!" she said furiously, tears burning in her eyes. "I can't bear living there without you, he's awful! I need you— why isn't that enough for you?"

“You need me? Is that the reason now? Suddenly you need me at home? Why, so you can refuse to talk to me unless it’s to make fun of me? So you can get a good laugh once in a while?” His heart ached, as if someone had driven a knife into it. “Neither of us are fucking happy staying there, but this way, at least I am. Maybe you should find a way to be happier too instead of sucking up to dad and staying home so that you’ll inherit his bank account when he finally fucks off.” He took a deep breath, voice sharp as a blade. “You’re fucking twenty one, Yara. No ones forcing you to stay there.”

"You don't get it, I have to stay—" she broke off, wiping at her eyes with a sort of angry disbelief, as though she couldn't believe she was actually crying. "Mom had a stroke, Theon, and dad isn't helping me, and... I don't know what to do. I need you with me, Thee..." she said thickly, keeping her face covered so he couldn't see her cry.

Theon froze. He didn’t know what to say, he just stared at her. “Mom- mom what?” His voice was barely a whisper.

"Mom had a stroke," she repeated. "She can barely talk, she can't feed herself... Dad won't help me take care of her. He wants her put in a home and I'm so scared that one day I'll come home and she'll be gone."

“Mom... he can’t send mom away. Drowned fuck, please tell me you’re lying.” He looked up at her, blinking rapidly. “Oh fuck, Yara, please tell me you’re lying.” The new information was like a knife between the ribs. His mom was basically dead anyway, but thinking of her actually being gone made him sick to his stomach. The thought of her in a hospital made him think of back when he was young and she was still his mother, when she’d dance and laugh with him. “Yara, please, she can’t be put in a home.” Everything inside him was twisting up in knots at the thought of his mom being sent away, all the memories of her smile being replaced with images of her miserable and sad, staring out the window. His chest ached as he remembered being with his mother as a child, so happy and carefree.

_“Come here, my baby, my sweet boy.” Alannys’s voice had been smooth as honey as she called out to Theon, kneeling on the back porch. He ran toward her, green eyes bright and wide with excitement, tiny arms outstretched. He was giggling, his gap-toothed smile stretching wide across his face, small curls of hair bouncing as he ran._

_“Mama!” he shouted, running up the stairs_ _and into her arms, hugging her around the neck as he couldn’t reach around her back. She kissed his forehead, lips soft against his skin, and wrapped her arms around the small boy. She lifted him up, smiling down at him as he beamed back at her._

_“I’m so glad to see you, my darling boy.” She gently brushed her fingers through his lightly colored hair, making him giggle again. Everything seemed to make Theon giggle, and the four year old looked so adorable with a smile on his round little face. Theon smiled most when with his mom, his most favorite person in the world._

_His older brothers and sister made fun of him for it, but Theon would rather be with his mom than anyone else, sitting in her lap as she sang to him, holding her hand as they waded along the beach, sitting on the counter to watch as she cooked and eat the occasional bits of food she’d pass him in the process. Balon had discouraged it, warned Alannys that she was going to spoil him rotten, but she still slipped him chocolate chips and berries while she made dessert._ _He was a mama’s boy for sure, and he used to cry whenever she left to go to the store. He didn’t anymore, not after Rodrik had slapped him across the face for it after deciding he was sick of hearing Theon cry. Theon learned quickly that his siblings were no comfort and neither was his father, and it only brought him closer to his mom._

_“I love you, mama!” he exclaimed, cheeks flushed from running and playing in the yard. “I missed you!” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, hugging her tighter._

_“I was only gone for an hour, my darling,” she soothed, continuing to play with his hair. “Daddy’s out at Maron and Rodrik’s baseball game, and Yara went with him. It’s just you and me.”_

_“Just us!” he repeated cheerfully. “Just us, just you and me!”_

_Alannys stared down into her baby’s wide green eyes and smiled back at him. “That’s right, my darling boy. What do you want to do? We could make cookies, or-“_

_“Cookies!” Theon interrupted, voice filled with glee. “Cookies, mama, can we? Please?!”_

_“Of course. You can sit on the counter, okay? I already made the cookie dough, you just have to mix in the chocolate chips to make it perfect, does that sound good?”_

_He nodded eagerly, clapping his hands as Alannys set him down on the counter. He watched as she went to the fridge and took out a big bowl, placing it next to him. He didn’t pay attention as she went to get chocolate chips, instead leaning over the bowl to poke at the cookie dough. He y_ _elped_ _when he was suddenly lifted into the air, and then burst out in happy giggles when he saw it was just his mom._

_“Mama, what?”_

_“You silly boy, you have to wash your hands first!” she scolded, but it was in a gentle voice. Theon moved his lips into an O-shape and nodded his understanding, happily washing his hands once she carried him over to the sink. She then brought him back to sit on the counter, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and handing it to him. “Can you pour those in for me, little Theon?”_

_“Yeah!” He took the bag in his two hands, leaning over to dump them all out into the bowl. A couple missed their target, bouncing onto the counter and onto the floor. He looked up at his mom with wide eyes and a tiny, guilty smile. “Oops.”_

_“That’s okay, my darling.” She leaned down and planted a small kiss on his forehead. “Mommy can clean those up later. Right now you just mix them up for me, okay?”_

_He reached in with his small hands and began to mix them in, looking up at his mother every few seconds to make sure he was doing a good job. She nodded, smiling so brightly at him that he was sure she was the sun._

_“Mama, I love you.” His tiny lopsided smile spread across his face as she gently lifted his hands from the bowl. “I love you forever and ever and ever and ever!”_

_“And I love you forever and ever, my darling boy, forever and always,” Alannys promised him as she began putting globs of dough onto the cookie sheets, finishing up and putting them in the oven. She let Theon eat a little bit of the remaining raw dough before going to clean up the dishes._

_“Mama, mama, can you sing?” Theon pleaded. Her back was to him now that she was at the sink, and he didn’t like not seeing her face. He clapped his hands together when she did begin singing, some song about the sea and boats and other things Theon loved. He nodded his head along with her singing. She was the best singer he’d ever heard._

_She was soon done with the dishes and dried off her hands before going back to pick Theon up, balancing him on her hip. “What do you want to do while the cookies are in the oven, my darling? Do you want to play?”_

_“Yeah! Can we play with the radio?”_

_“You want to dance?”_

_He nodded quickly, face lighting up when Alannys started walking toward the radio on the bookshelf in the living room._

_“Thank you, mama!” Theon exclaimed when she turned it on, the radio cracklings for a minute as she found the right station, some sort of classic music coming on._

_Alannys set him down gently and held both his hands in her own, bent over so that they wouldn’t have to let go. Theon happily stumbled around, laughing a loud, joyful laugh when she let go of one hand and guided him through a little twirl with the other. He was so small compared to her, he was maybe as tall as her waist, but he loved to dance with her._

_They continued dancing, Alannys holding his hands and laughing with him until the kitchen timer went off._

_“You can come with me, darling boy, but I can’t carry you right now. I have to take the cookies out, okay?”_

_He pouted but nodded, following after her into the kitchen as she slid on oven mitts and took out the two trays of cookies. They smelled so good, so fresh and chocolatey, and Theon reached up for one. Alannys gently pushed his hand away._

_“Not yet, darling. They have to cool a bit first.”_

_“Up, then?” he asked, raising his arms. She laughed and shook her head a tiny bit but picked him up._

_“Daddy is right, I really do spoil you sometimes," she said fondly._

_“Because you love me!” he replied happily. “You love, love, love me! Forever and ever! And I love you, mama! I love you!”_

_“Shh, baby, I know. Don’t get too excited now.” She chuckled softly, the chuckle turning to a laugh when he started planting tiny kisses all over her cheeks. “Oh my darling boy, I love you so much.”_

_She finally reached over to pick up a cookie, holding it up for him to bite into, her other hand wrapped around him to keep him held up on her hip. He happily ate the cookie, smearing chocolate onto his chin. She let him have another one before carrying him to the living room, sitting down on the couch with him on her lap._

_“You’re a very good boy, Theon, and mommy loves you very much,” she told him, smiling bright at the way he beamed up at her with chocolate still on his face. “Mommy is never, ever going to leave you, okay?”_

_“Never ever.” He nodded, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Never ever, mama, because you love me, and I love you.”_

_“You really are a little mama’s boy, huh?” Alannys teased gently, ruffling his hair. “I love you too.”_

“Yara, you can’t let him send her away," Theon choked out.

"I'm doing everything in my power to stop him," Yara promised. "He doesn't want to deal with her, and I'm not always home, so he doesn't have a choice. I'm scared, Theon, I can't lose her too. Not more than we already have. I don't think I would ever be able to see her again," she confessed. "He wants her gone."

“Oh fuck, oh fuck," he cursed, letting himself fall back to sit on the bench. He hid his head in his hands. “I-“ He could barely get the words out. “I can’t move back. I’m sorry. I care about mom, I do, but... she’s already lost. She can’t break any more than she already has. I can, and you- you can. I know you want to help mom, Yara, but..” His words cut off with a loud sob, his shoulders shaking. “She can’t get better. We can.”

"So you're just going to leave me with her? Theon, I need you!" she cried out. "We can help her if you just come home, there's got to be something we can do! You're my baby brother— I need you!"

“We can’t help her!” Theon roared, lifting his head. “Don’t you fucking get it by now?” His earlier pleading for Yara to keep Balon from sending his mother away was forgotten. “She’s dead! Our mother is dead, and she has been since I was eight years old and our brothers died! That woman isn’t our mother!”

Tears poured down his face, lump in his throat and loud sobs making it hard to talk, but he kept yelling.

“I love her, I loved her more than any of you, but she is not our mother anymore! She would be better off dead! Maybe you want to be weighed down for the rest of your life watching after a shell of what our mother once was, but- but I won’t.” His voice cracked, the yelling quickly turning to weak, shaking words. “That woman isn’t my mama. She isn’t. And she isn’t yours either- not anymore.” He swallowed hard. “She wouldn’t want you to stay in that house, miserable, just to look after a shell of who she used to be. She wouldn’t- she wouldn’t want me to go back.”

"How could you say that?" Yara shouted. "Where is your loyalty? You're a Greyjoy! It doesn't matter what has happened to her, she's your mother! She's our mother! We can't know what she would want because she can't talk to us, not anymore, but we can treat her with decency! She deserves that much, at least!"

“You’re so selfish!” Theon was sobbing. “You see that I’m safe and happy, and you try to drag me back! She doesn’t even fucking remember us, Yara, she hasn’t so much as looked at us in ten fucking years!”

"She asked for you," Yara said in a broken voice. "Before the stroke. I was with her, and she asked 'did you bring my baby boy?'" She swallowed back a sob. "'Did you bring my little Theon?'"

Theon couldn’t respond, covering his mouth to muffle his sobs, closing his eyes. He couldn’t look at her. Everything had been going well, things had felt happy and okay and normal for the past few days, and now it was ruined. His heart ached. “She didn’t. She didn’t say that, Yara, I haven’t heard her speak since I was eight," he argued weakly.

"She did," Yara breathed. "She loved you, Theon, more than she loved any of us. She's noticed that you're gone."

“Drowned God,” Theon whimpered. He didn’t know what else to say. “Fine. I’ll come see her.”

Yara lurched forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered.

He froze for a minute before gently hugging her back. “But I’m not moving back in.”

Yara grit her teeth, unseen by Theon. "Okay, Theon," she conceded. "Dad won't be home on Saturday, you can come then."

Theon nodded, stepping back after a minute and turning away. “I’ll see you then. Goodbye, Yara.”


	9. Chapter 9

Saturday afternoon, Yara opened the door of the Greyjoy house to let in Theon. "She's upstairs," she said by way of greeting. "Come on."

“Dad’s not home?” Theon asked, wanting to make sure before he came inside.

"No, he goes to the casino Saturday nights and gambles our life savings away," Yara said with a wry smile. "You're safe, don't worry."

Theon took a deep breath, slowly exhaling before stepping in. “Okay. Lead the way.” Yara led him down the familiar hallway, bringing him to the door of Theon's old room.

"Dad stuffed her in here, after it happened," she explained, gently pushing open the door. His room hadn’t changed at all since he left- not that he’d been gone for long- except for his mother sitting in a wheel chair by the window. He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his mom, that she wouldn’t care, that it was the same as it had been the past ten or eleven years, but he couldn’t. His heart was so heavy in his chest and he couldn’t help the flicker of hope he had.

Theon stepped closer. “Mother?” Yara rushed forward to turn the wheelchair around so Alannys could face her boy. She peered up at him, her face so thin and frail, and seemed to stare right through him.

"Theon?" she asked hoarsely, the single word clearly costing her a massive effort.

Theon swore he could feel his heart stop in his chest, his voice wavering, tears already welling in his eyes. “Drowned God- mother, you see me? Do you see me?”

"Theon?" she rasped again. "Did you bring my baby boy? Did you bring my little Theon?"

Everything in him shattered at once and he just stared at her, all he could do was stare, and for a moment he felt how she must’ve all those years when she stared out that window in hopes of her sons coming home. “I am Theon," he whispered, talking quietly so his voice wouldn’t crack, so his tears wouldn’t fall. “It’s me. I’m here.”

"Where's my little boy? Where's my little Theon? Did you bring him with you?"

Yara stared at him over the top of Alannys's head, dark eyes wide with horror. Her lips moved to form words, but no sound came out. Theon couldn’t hold it back, he fell to his knees and tried so bad to choke back a sob but it came out, practically a wail, a terrible, horrible sound that was heavy with a decade’s worth of despair and hurt and anguish. It made a loud sound when his knees smacked against the floor but he didn’t even feel it, his head hanging as he just let himself sob, palms flat against the floor, holding himself up as his body shook and his tears soaked his cheeks.

Yara abandoned the wheelchair and fell to his side, hands on his shoulders. "Theon, I'm so sorry, I didn't know..."

Behind her, Alannys called out plaintively, "Where is my little boy?" Theon heard nothing but his own sobs and his mother’s voice, feeling again like an eight year old boy who just wanted someone to comfort him after a nightmare. An eight year old boy who was living a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from.

“I’m here,” he sobbed. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. I’m right here, mama, can’t you see me?” He grew more frantic, looking up at her on the last few words. “Can’t you see me? I’m right here, Theon, your boy, your darling boy. Please tell me you see me, please.”

"Who are you?" Alannys demanded, her voice weak. "I want my boy! Bring him to me, please! I miss him." Yara grabbed Theon and heaved him up, pulling him away from Alannys and towards the door.

Theon fought against his sister, trying to get back toward his mother. “I am your boy! I’m your boy, I swear, don’t you see? Can’t you see me? I’m Theon! I am Theon, your boy, your baby boy, please!” His heart ached in his chest. “It’s me, it’s me, mama, your baby boy, please! Please! I swear it’s me!”

Yara wrested him out of the room, dropping him on the hallway floor and slamming shut the door. "I'm sorry," she said, shaken. "I didn't think— she asked for you, I thought she would..."

Theon quickly stood up from where Yara had dropped him, hurriedly opening to door to go back into the room, to fall to his knees in front of Alannys and hold one of her frail hands in his own. He was still shaking, sobbing, staring his mother in the face. He thought he’d be happy when she finally looked at him again. Even as she stared back at him, he felt as if she didn’t see him. “It’s me, mama, please. It’s your baby boy, I’m here. Please, just recognize me.”

"Where is my boy? I just want to see my boy," she murmured desperately. Then she seemed to shut down, and didn't say another word. Theon let his head fall into her lap, tears soaking into the fabric of her skirt. He couldn’t stop crying, he couldn’t remember ever crying this much in his life. His heart hurt so badly that he wished for nothing more than to just tear it out of his chest.

“I’m here,” he whispered, words muffled by the fabric. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” He kept repeating it, over and over, as if saying it enough times would make her believe it. Alannys sat still and merely breathed, saying nothing, knowing nothing. The soft sound of Yara's footsteps marked her reapproach, and she dropped to her knees next to Theon.

"I'm sorry, Theon."

Theon ignored Yara, fists clutching at the fabric of his mother’s skirt. He felt like a child again, hurt and broken and confused, but more than anything, motherless. He’d been an idiot and a fool to think his mother would suddenly come back to him, to stupidly imagine that he’d one day dance around to classical music with her in the living room again. To imagine that she’d come to him, smiling bright and wide and beautiful and holding him tightly in her arms. He just wanted his mother back, more than anything else in the world, but he’d never have her back. The only dash of hope he’d had left, the hope he’d held tight to for so many years, it was crushed. Shattered. Yara took him gently and brought him back out again, shutting the door more firmly this time, and helped Theon into a chair. She gave him a hug, wishing she had never even approached him about this.

"Dad is going to send her to a local home next week," she said. "They're going to work with her, hopefully help her regain some mobility."

“That’s not our mom,” he sobbed, hiding his face against her shoulder. “That’s not my mama, she’s not.” He hugged her back tightly, clinging to her as if his life depended on it. “I just want my mama back, Yara.” The next words were choked out, messy and heavy with despair. “I hate Rodrik and Maron. I hate them. They took our mom away. They took her away from us when they died, and left us with- with whatever she is now. I hate them. They took her, they took her away.”

Yara bit back a sob. "It's not their fault, Thee," she said, remembering the faces of her older brothers, and how the three of them used to do everything together. "It's not their fault. It's not anybody's fault. It just... Things just happen without reason, and it really fucking blows."

“They always hated me. They made fun of me, and they hit me, and they laughed at me, and then they took my mother away!” He tightened his grip on the back of her shirt. “They took her away, and I had no one. No one.”

"You have me!" Yara said fiercely. "We have each other. Don't forget that. I'm always here, especially for you, little brother."

It took all his strength to let go and step back, his face red, twisted, puffy, and ugly from crying, and he glared at her, his voice an angry hiss. “You’ve never been here for me. I ran to you as a child, when I couldn’t run to mother, and you never let me stay. You always kicked me out of your room. You didn’t defend me when father threatened to fucking kill me. You’re lying. You’re trying to make yourself feel better, and you’re lying. Leaving this house was the best thing I ever did.” Fat tears were still rolling down his cheeks and his voice continued to shake. “I’m leaving it again.” He turned around and stormed down the stairs.

"Theon!" Yara called after him. "I had to, you don't get it! You had to learn, just like I did." When he didn't stop, she hurried after him, just in time to see him reach the door. "Theon, stop! I'm not lying to you!"

He turned around before walking out the door, stopping to look at her. “I did not have to learn how it felt to be abandoned by everyone around me, by my whole family. No one fucking has to learn that. You- you decided to abandon me, you decided to make me find my own fucking way when I was a kid and still needed my mother. You don’t get to let me fumble my way around in confusion all my life and then just randomly decide you want me around. I didn’t fucking have to learn, but now you do.” He didn’t move from his spot, and he was still crying, but there was a furious look on his face and his voice did not waver. “I will not spend another fucking day in this house, with this family, just to watch whatever the fuck that-“ he gestured up the stairs, “whatever the fuck that is waste away and die. I won’t let myself be fucking miserable just because you never learned that you have the ability to leave. Father doesn’t need you. He never has. And mother?”

The words felt sour, bitter, vile in his mouth.

“She’d be better off dead.”

Yara slapped his hard across the face. "Don't you dare— don't you ever dare say that! You don't know what I've done for you, you don't know how hard it was! She is our mother! Don't you ever say that again!"

He just stared at her, open-mouthed, standing frozen in place. She’d hit him. It had hurt; she hit hard.

“You say you’re there for me after you bring me to see the shell of my mother, you say you’re there for me, and then you hit me.” His voice was dripping with hurt. “You hit me,” he repeated, voice cracking this time, and the tears that had been falling had yet to stop. He hated how he felt, hated it so much, like a child who wanted nothing more than to run to his mother- but his mother was a corpse, and her eyes were unseeing. She’d begged for her baby boy while he stood right in front of her and begged her to see him. “How could you hit me?” He raised his voice and it cracked on every word, anguished and raw. He looked directly at her, face ugly and red from crying.

"How could you say that? How could you say she's better off dead? She's hurting, she needs help! Acting like this won't help her!" Yara scolded, though her gut was writing with guilt. She, too, couldn't believe that she had struck him.

“That’s not our fucking mother!” Theon would never hit her back. Never. “She’s stuck in her own fucking head, staring out that fucking window to look for her sons that have been dead for over a decade, when her living children are right in front of her!”

Everything in Theon was falling apart, everything he’d built up crumbling. He wanted his mother more than anything in the world, he’d do anything to have his mother back, but he couldn’t look at her as she was now. He wanted the woman who played with his hair and called him her darling boy, the woman who tucked him in and sung him to sleep every night. He wanted the woman who loved to call him her little Theon as he ran to her, barefoot in the grass, the second she got home anytime she went anywhere. He slumped back against the door, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest it against the wood. He couldn’t look at his sister anymore.

"After everything she did for you, you're just going to turn your back on her now? She was always there for you—always—and now you can't be there for her?" Yara said harshly, standing over him. "You think you're the only who misses her, who wants her back?"

He didn’t even respond, he just stood there and sobbed. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, like a helpless child. He remembered what Yara said to him once. ‘You were a terrible baby, do you know that?’ she had said. ‘Bawling all the time, never sleeping.’ He wondered how many tears he’d shed in his life. He wondered how many were for and because of his mother. ‘I wanted to strangle you. And you looked up at me and you stopped screaming,’ Yara had told him.

She couldn’t stop him now. Nothing she did would be able to stop his crying, his reckless sobs.

“You don’t understand.” Theon sobbed. “Dad loves you. He loves you, and he never loved me. He still cared for you after mother died. You still had a parent, and I was alone! He’s wanted me dead, he’s told me, he told me the day they died that he wished it was me instead! You don’t- you never fucking needed her like I did! Stop acting like we’re in the same position, like we felt the same things, because we didn’t, and you know it!”

"Dad doesn't love me!" Yara said in disbelief. "He loves what he wishes I was! What I pretend to be! Mom was my balance, she... She helped me to see..." She scrubbed angrily at her streaming eyes with her sleeve.

He didn’t have it in him to respond. He stood there in silence for a while, shaking, calming himself as best he could, wiping his face with his hands before carefully walking up the stairs, paying no attention to Yara. He quietly walked into his old room, the one Alannys now resided in. He approached his mother, reaching back into the small drawstring bag on his back. He pulled out a stuffed animal, a faded purple squid, untangling it’s tentacles. It was missing one or two now, the holes stitched up on the body to keep the stuffing from falling out. The fabric wasn’t soft like it once was, and it was stained in many places. He reached around his mom, gently placing the squid in her lap.

Theon leaned down, kissing his mother’s cheek. “I wish you were still here to love me. I wish you were still my mama,” he whispered. “Goodbye, mama. I love you. Forever and ever and ever, just like I said.” His voice cracked on the words, and he quietly walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. He was still trembling.

Yara was leaning against the wall outside, watching him with red-rimmed eyes. "I am sorry, Theon. And I shouldn't have hit you." She took a couple of steps toward him, curious yet wary. "Were you saying goodbye?"

He nodded slowly, not looking at her. “I was. And I won’t be saying it to her ever again.” His heart ached as he spoke, but it was true. “I had something to give her, and now I’m going.” He kept his voice as even and calm as he could, but it still shook.

She put an arm out to stop him, her hand gentle on his shoulder. "What did you give her?"

Theon went still at her touch, turning his head to look at her, a sad sort of acceptance in his expression. “Do you remember Mister Squid?” He was sure she did, as she was the reason one of his tentacles was missing.

"Of course I do," she said, mouth a little 'o' of surprise. "I have that tentacle on my wall, still, remember?" She laughed, but sobered quickly, looking as though she would like to give him a hug, but she knew better. "You gave him to mom?

”Yeah,” he replied hoarsely, not wanting to break down again. He looked away from her. “She’s the one who gave him to me. It was time to give him back.”

Something in Yara's expression broke. "Oh, Theon," she murmured. "Don't leave, please."

“If I stay here, you will lose another brother,” he promised, glancing back over to her for just a moment.

Yara bit her lip. "I can't... I can't lose you," she said. "I... Just go." Defeated, she moved past him and entered the room, turning Alannys to face the window again. She bent over to adjust the squid in her lap, helping Alannys hold onto it, and stroked her hair back from her face, resolutely ignoring Theon.

Theon walked down the stairs, not looking back into the room, not looking back at all. He left the house, quietly closing the door behind him, and headed off down the street. He looked like shit and he knew it. He felt like shit.

He needed to find a fucking party.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yee haw (-;  
> Feel free 2 comment,,, thank u xoxo

Theon felt good. For the first time since Yara and him had spoken on Thursday, he felt light and happy. The few drinks he had probably helped that, seeing as he was delightfully tipsy. He couldn’t make out anyone’s faces in the dim light, could only feel the heavy bass of the music and the bodies brushing past his own.

He worked his way back into where there were the most people, dancing loosely and carelessly, letting himself feel free when a pair of hands landed on his hips. There was someone behind him, and those hands were large and strong enough to bruise. Theon just moaned and let the stranger pull him closer, continuum to dance and grinding against the man behind him. Whoever it was, they felt muscular, certainly bigger than him, and it made his skin heat up and his blood rush south.

“What’s your name?” Theon slurred, turning his head to try and see the stranger’s face. He saw a pair of icy blue eyes glinting in the dim light but couldn’t make out any of the other features. A chill ran down his spine, but the blood running to his cock was much more prevalent.

“Don’t talk,” the stranger replied, voice low and smooth, before kissing him.

He moaned into the stranger’s mouth as they kissed sloppily, Theon still happily grinding his ass against the hardening bulge it was pressed against. He didn’t mind not talking, especially not now that those strong hands were reaching down to grope his ass. He moaned louder, kissing the stranger harder, and suddenly he was being lifted off his feet and carried away from the group of people, down a hall and up the stairs or something, and into a bedroom. At least, Theon figured it was a bedroom, there was a bed in it. He giggled, placing sloppy wet kisses along the stranger’s neck until he was dropped onto the bed.

He wasn’t too drunk to not know what he was doing, he was just drunk enough that everything seemed fun and felt good. He didn’t care that he couldn’t see the stranger. His clothes were being roughly pulled off of him, a calloused hand giving his cock a few harsh tugs until it was fully hard.

“Spread your legs," the stranger commanded, and he obeyed. He heard the other man spit and soon felt fingers pressing against his exposed hole. He shuddered, whimpered, waiting for one to push in. “You like it up the ass, sweetheart?”

Theon nodded, not caring to mention that he was a virgin, and then moaned loud as one of those thick fingers pushed into him, the stretch uncomfortable but not exactly painful. A second finger was added almost immediately after, and that hurt. Theon whined low in his throat, squirming uncomfortably. He didn’t think he could handle a third yet, and apparently the stranger was thinking the same thing. Those two fingers curled and twisted and scissored inside of him until the stretch was no longer painful, no longer uncomfortable, and then a third finger was added.

It hurt a little, but was quickly overridden by pleasure when those three fingers curved up and found his sweet spot. His hips bucked and he moaned obscenely loud, pushing back against the fingers. The stranger chuckled lowly, and the sound sent thrills through Theon’s nerves. His cock was so hard, leaking precome, and he whined in protest when the other man pulled his fingers out. He felt oddly empty.

He heard the other man undressing and groaned in annoyance. “C’mon, hurry up, I want your cock. I want it inside me.”

“Quiet,” the stranger demanded, and something in his tone caused Theon to stop his complaining immediately. Just moments later the man was above him and Theon could see nothing but those sharp blue eyes- and then he was being flipped over, onto his stomach, his ass pulled roughly up into the air.

He heard the man spit again, this time feeling the saliva, sticky and wet, land on his skin, covering his hole. He grimaced but didn’t say anything, eagerly wiggling his hips when he felt the head of a cock pressed against him- and it was thick, he could tell even before it was pushed in.

He cried out in pain when the stranger pushed in- the three fingers that prepared him were nothing compared to his cock. The man was at least pushing in slowly, giving him time to adjust to the stretch, getting to the point where it wasn’t painful so much as uncomfortable, and the feeling of being stretched and so full was keeping Theon’s cock at full mast.

The stranger grunted softly as he pushed the rest of the way in, hips flush against Theon’s ass, and Theon moaned and ground his ass back against him. The cock slowly began to slide out, until only the head was still inside him, and he was about to whine in complaint when it was suddenly shoved back in all the way, his head shoved down as the stranger began to fuck him hard.

“Dude- come on, slow down, that- fuck- that hurts, man!” Theon cursed. He still couldn’t see the man who was fucking him, his face was pushed into the pillow, turned to the side just slightly enough so that he could breath. The cock inside him was fucking him impossibly hard, and it hurt. He honestly wasn’t even sure how it was possible for the stranger to fuck him this hard when he was still so tight- wouldn’t the friction be painful? It was for him.

The stranger didn’t slow down and Theon began to struggle a bit underneath him, whining and clenching the sheets of the bed in his fists.

“That’s too much!” Theon snarled, gasping after each thrust. “Slow down, you bastard!”

The thrusts stopped instantly, cock buried fully inside him, and Theon was panting, catching his breath.

“Should I stop?” the stranger asked, voice low and cold. The question felt heavier than it was, as if it meant more than just asking if Theon still wanted to be fucked. It felt almost like signing some sort of contract, and it made Theon’s stomach twist. Despite the weird feeling the question gave him, Theon responded.

“No.”

There was a small snort of laughter before the stranger began fucking him again, slower this time. It was still uncomfortable, but it quickly melted away into pleasure and then Theon was moaning, pushing his hips back and closing his eyes, this time glad when the stranger’s thrusts began to pick up speed. The angle changed slightly and he was floating, pleasure flooding every nerve of his body, and he was moaning so loud he was sure everyone within a ten mile radius could hear him.

He reached down with one hand to stroke his cock but the stranger slapped the hand away. Theon instantly moved it back up to clench the sheets, almost sobbing in annoyance at how hard his cock was, how much it was aching and throbbing without him touching it. He was close, so fucking close, he felt so full and so good and wanted nothing more than to come, to let the waves of pleasure shake his whole body as he clenched and moaned and felt the stranger’s cock stretching him open.

That thick cock was still fucking him hard, each thrust landing directly against his prostate, and Theon was shaking from the pleasure. The pillow was beginning to soak with his drool, his eyes leaking tears from how good it felt, how fucking intense it all was.

“You can come now.” The stranger spoke, and Theon didn’t even have time to reach down and touch his own cock before he was doing exactly that. His orgasm shook him like none other before, his thoughts melting away, replaced by white-hot pleasure. He was vaguely aware of the stranger thrusting a few more times and then spilling inside him, hot, white seed filling him up. It took him a minute to come down from the orgasm, and the stranger slowly fucked him through it before pulling his softening cock out and leaving Theon to collapse on the bed, panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat.

He felt the stranger get off the bed and took the opportunity to roll back over onto his back and spread out, not caring how exposed he was, not caring that the come was dripping out of his hole and onto the sheets. His eyes were closed, a lazy, lopsided smile playing on his lips.

“That was fucking good, dude," he drawled, hearing no answer for a minute, no sound at all until a bright light flashed outside his eyelids and a camera shutter sound broke his hazy trance. He sat up quickly. “Wait, hey, what the fuck? Did you just take a picture?”

“Goodnight, darling,” the low voice of the stranger responded, phone in hand, screen lit just bright enough for Theon to see his eyes. Like ice, pale blue, so sharp that Theon felt they could see beneath his skin and into his soul.

And then the stranger was gone, door closed behind him, leaving him alone in that dark room that reeked of sex.

Theon Greyjoy groaned and let himself fall back onto the bed, closing his eyes. He was tired and found himself drifting off, his last thought being that he just lost his virginity.

He still felt as if those icy blue eyes were staring into his soul.

* * *

When Theon woke, it was with his ass aching and his body wrapped up in the strong arms of a stranger. He groaned, dragging himself away from the man and off his bed, hunting around the room for his clothes. He was limping. Fuck, he was sore, and suddenly panic was flooding through his body, cutting off his air, heart racing. Fuck. Fuck, he thought, over and over. He’d just lost it to a stranger, some man whose face he’d never even seen.

Something in Theon was screaming for him to get out as quickly as possible, and he did just that, throwing on a shirt and pants, relieved to see his phone was in the pants pocket, and he ran out of the house. He wasn’t sure where he was, he just knew his body ached and he looked like shit. He wandered a bit until he reached a gas station he recognized, pulling out his phone to call Robb and ask him to come pick him up.

"Hello?" Robb asked blearily on the other end of the line. There was a shuffling sound like he was sitting up in bed, and the muffled whine of a displeased dog. "It's six in the morning... Theon? What's up?"

“I need you to come pick me up.” Theon’s voice was panicked, but he tried to make it sound calm and even. “A–" He laughed. “A lot of shit happened yesterday. I’m at that weird gas station bar place, the Dreadfort or whatever.”

"Okay. I'm on my way, just be careful. That place is creepy." Robb hung up and threw a coat on over top of his pajamas, shoved his feet into his boots, and was out the door in three minutes.

Theon waited outside the Dreadfort, glad that it wasn’t ever busy. His panic dissipated a bit when he saw Robb’s car pull up. He cracked a half-hearted smile and walked over to the coupe, trying not to limp, sitting in the passengers seat with a small wince. “Hey." His voice was a bit hoarse. “Thanks.”

"No problem." Robb looked over at him, studying his haggard appearance. "What happened? I haven't seen you since yesterday morning."

“A lot,” Theon answered, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to rest against the seat. “Can we talk about it after I get to the house and shower? Because right now I’ve got an ass full of cum and I’m pretty sure I’ve got spilt beer on me, too.”

Rob grimaced. "Yeah, of course."

The Stark house was a scant fifteen minute drive from the Dreadfort gas station, and while he had no idea how Theon got there, he wasn't going to question it. He was just glad the Bastard's Boys hadn't gotten to Theon first; they were notorious for hanging out around the Dreadfort, and more than once a lone straggler had gone missing there.

Theon was just happy to be back at the Stark family home, following Robb upstairs, glad to not have encountered any of the smaller Starks along the way. He grabbed what he needed from his room and went to shower, water hot and soothing on his skin. He scrubbed at his skin, not realizing how hard he was going until it started to hurt. The relief he had from being in a familiar place was slowly overtaken by a feeling of overwhelming nausea, and he found himself hurrying out of the shower to bend over the toilet and vomit.

He puked twice, nothing but bile coming out, and then stayed kneeling on the floor, cold and dripping wet, violently dry-heaving for a few minutes. An image of his mother flashed through his mind, her holding a cold towel to his head when he was throwing up and running a fever, her rocking him to sleep in her lap. He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, flushing the toilet and going back to finish his shower.

He brushed his teeth for longer than normal, wanting the taste of vomit out, taking his time drying off and getting dressed so that his face would return to its normal color. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed before walking back to Robb’s room.

“Hey.”

"Hey," Robb replied. He had shed his coat and boots again and was sat in his bed, legs curled loosely, Grey Wind's head in his lap. "Sit down. I think we need to talk?"

“Yeah.” Theon sat down next to him on the side Grey Wind wasn’t already occupying. “Where should I start, with the dick up my ass or the zombie mother?” he joked, but his heart wasn’t in it, and it wasn’t very funny.

"Whatever you need to talk about most," said Robb seriously, concern swimming in his eyes. "Don't joke, Theon, just... Talk. Get it all out."

He took a deep breath, reaching down to scratch behind Grey Wind’s ears. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and crossed them under himself, looking at the wolf instead of Robb. “I went home, which you know, I was going to see my mom ‘cause Yara said she had a stroke.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “My mom- she didn’t... she didn’t recognize me. She kept asking ‘Did you bring my baby boy? Did you bring my little Theon?’ And I was right there, Robb, Drowned God I was right fucking there!”

Theon lost his composure and choked back a sob, glad that he was looking at Grey Wind. He didn’t want to see how Robb was looking at him, and he didn’t want Robb to see his face all twisted up in an ugly expression.

“She asked for her little boy, she said my name and I told her, I told her I was right there, Robb, she looked at me, she looked at my face and then asked where I was.”

"Gods, Theon, I'm—" Robb stopped himself, realizing that Theon probably didn't want his pities. Gods knew he wouldn't. "What did Yara do?"

“Ah, she slapped me.” Theon laughed miserably, the tears already flowing down his cheeks. “She wanted me to stay, she was saying all this shit about how she’d always been there for me. I told her mom was better off- better off dead. She slapped me. That’s what the bruise on my cheek is from.”

Robb reached out and gently touched his cheek, fingers nimbly avoiding the sore spots. "That's fucked up. How could she try and get you to move back there? She knows how much better off you are away from him. Does it still hurt?"

“Not really.” Theon shrugged. “My ass is what hurts. No one fucking told me I’d feel this sore the morning after.” He ignored the question about Yara.

"What happened with that? Did you just meet somebody?" Robb asked, maybe a little jealously.

“Hell if I know. I didn’t ask his name, fuck, I didn’t even really see his face.” Theon groaned, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had one night stands before, but this was different.

"How drunk were you?" asked Robb. Had Theon been taken advantage of? How many people would he have to hurt to track down whoever it was?

“Huh?” Theon seemed confused, looking up at Robb then realizing he was asking. “No, dude, no- I didn’t get raped or something, I wasn’t that drunk. The dude stopped when I told him to and didn’t start fucking me again until I said it was okay. I mean, yeah, I was looking to drink and fuck my feelings away, but it’s not like it’s his fault I’m a dumbass.”

"You could have come home, Theon," said Robb, looking pained. He was relieved, of course, that Theon had been safe, but he was still upset that it had come to that. "We would have taken care of you. You know I'm always here."

“No, I just... I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you don’t understand. At all. In any measure.” Something in the back of Theon’s head said that Jon might. “You have two parents who love you. I needed to go get fucked up. I just wish I knew the face of the guy who took my fucking virginity.” He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face and sniffling. “I just remember his eyes, they were so fucking blue that they were almost white, I swear they practically glowed in the dark, I felt like the dude was looking into my soul.”

Robb, who had been looking gradually more upset, grew stock still at Theon's last words. "They— what?" he asked, because he knew those eyes, and they were bad news.

“What?” Theon furrowed his brows. “I know it sounds crazy dude, but I’m serious. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like that before.”

"You don't remember anything else about what he looked like?" Robb pressed, leaning forward, fingers twisting into Grey Wind's fur.

“Uh, no? He felt pretty muscular and his cock was really big though. Kinda demanding, too.” Theon frowned and looked at Robb in confusion. “Yeah, but I don’t remember anything else. Just those eyes.” He shivered. “They were almost clear, dude, it was freaky.”

"Where did you go?" Robb inquired, making a mental note to tell his father about his suspicion later.

“I don’t know, Jeyne Poole brought me. It was near the Dreadfort, that’s all I know. Pretty nice house, though it was probably trashed after. Kinda weird crowd, not much talking, but lots of dancing. Loud fucking music too.” He paused. “Oh, and there were a bunch of dogs out back! I wanted to go pet them but Jeyne told me not too. Why are you asking so many questions?”

"Because I'm worried about you. I'm just trying to make sure you weren't in any sort of danger. A lot of bad people hang out near the Dreadfort," Robb explained.

“Well the dude wasn’t bad at fucking, I’ll tell you that.” Theon grinned but it very quickly faded. “Hurts now, though. He got kinda rough at one point, shoving my head down and shit. Wasn’t a huge fan of that.”

Robb grit his teeth. "Let me know if you see those eyes again, okay?" he said, trying to quash his simmering anger. He needed to talk to his father.

“Yeah... okay.” Theon gave him an odd look but didn’t question him. They chatted a little more that night, small talk mostly, but Theon was physically and emotionally exhausted and was in bed before long, not waking up until noon on Sunday.


	11. Chapter 11

Robb went knocking on his father's office door around 10, while Theon was asleep. "Dad?" he called. "Are you busy? I need to talk to you."

“No, come in," Ned answered, just loud enough for Robb to hear. His back was to the door and he was working on his computer.

He entered quietly and shut the door behind him, making sure it had clicked shut before he moved away from it. "Theon called me this morning," he began slowly, not entirely sure how to word this. "He spent the night out."

Ned turned in his chair, looking at his eldest son. “Is he okay?”

"Relatively, but that's not really the concern. He called me from Dreadfort this morning... He spent the night near there." He eyes were wide with meaning. "At a house with a lot of dogs," he said pointedly.

“And?” Ned’s face showed concern, but it wasn’t overpowering. “If he just went to party and came home, he should be fine. If it was the Bolton home- which I assume you’re getting at- just tell him not to go back there.”

"He..." Robb looked away awkwardly. "He had gotten drunk, and messed around with somebody. A boy with pale blue eyes, who was a little, um, rough."

Something that may have been worry flashed across Ned’s expression, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived. “Messed around? Robb, if Theon gets involved with the Boltons...” He trailed off, taking a deep breath.

"He's already slept with Ramsay, I don't know how much more involved he could get," Robb said wryly. "You don't have to tell me it's bad news, I already knew that, that's why I came to you." He paced anxiously around Ned's chair. "How long has he been back? Last I knew, he was in Weeping Water, going to some boarding school."

“He slept with Ramsay?” Ned rubbed his hand over his face, sighing deeply. “Are you sure? He has been back for a few weeks now, he got kicked out of that boarding school.” He looked up to Robb, worry now plain to see in his expression. “I don’t know what you can do, Robb, other than hope Ramsay hasn’t taken an interest in Theon.” He wished he could give better advice, but with the Boltons, he was never sure of what to do.

"I'm dead sure," Robb said desolately. "I can't say for sure whether he has taken an interest or not, but if Theon tells me of one more encounter, I'm heading over there with Grey Wind to make him leave him alone," he said fiercely.

“You can’t.” Ned looked at him, dead serious. “We don’t need you getting involved with the Boltons as well. And if it was all consensual... there’s nothing we can do about it, even if Theon does see him again. Does Theon know it was Ramsay?”

"No," Robb spat. "It was dark, he never saw his face. He never told Theon his name."

Ned looked and sounded a bit relieved. “If they don’t even know each other’s names, I don’t think it’s serious. I wouldn’t tell Theon who Ramsay is, though. He might go after him just because he thinks it’s funny if you tell him to stay away.”

"I know," Robb sighed. "He would definitely do that, no matter how much I warned him. He needs to learn how to be careful. I understand wanting to go out and have fun to take your mind off things, but he always takes it to excess. Dad, I'm worried about him." Robb turned his eyes to Ned, anxious and unsure. He just wanted to protect his friend, but Theon made it so hard.

“It’s going to be okay, Robb.” Ned stood up, walking over to him and placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “If anything serious happens with the Boltons, let me know. Theon is going to be alright.”

"Okay," Robb said, nodding. "I'll keep an eye on him, and watch out for Ramsay. Chances are he'll be at the academy if he's in Winterfell."

“You’re a good friend, Robb. You always have been. Theon is lucky to have you," he said before Robb left the room, turning to sit down and go back to working on his computer.

* * *

Theon took a while to get out of bed, even after waking up. He didn’t bother to change out of his pajamas as he walked down the hall toward Jon’s room. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing as he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Jon called. He was laying on his bed with a book in his hands and glasses on his face when Theon walked in. He looked up in surprise, but kept a wary position, in case Theon was on the hunt for a new personal attack

Theon closed the door behind him, shifting his weight and looking just as uncomfortable as he felt. “Uh- so, I’m not here to make fun of you or anything.”

"Then what do you want?" Jon asked curiously. Then his face hardened. "I'm not giving you that girl's number, and if you're horny, I suggest finding my brother."

“That’s not why I’m here either!” Theon huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to talk- kid with no motherly figure to kid with no motherly figure.”

Jon paused. After marking the page, he set the book down and removed his glasses, setting the two aside on the nightstand. "Sit down," he said, nodding towards the part of bed not otherwise occupied by himself or Ghost.

“I know that you never really had one at all, so it’s not like we’re the same or anything...” Theon started hesitantly. He wasn’t a big fan of talking about his feelings. “But I haven’t really had one since I was eight, so close enough.” He reached out to pet Ghost but quickly pulled his hand away when he bared his teeth.

"What happened?" Jon asked, lightly swatting Ghost's flank as reprimand. The dog merely looked at him, red eyes cool and apathetic. "Is that where you were yesterday?"

Theon nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah. I visited my mom. Or, rather, some shell of a person who has my mother’s features.” He laughed lamely, looking down at the dog to avoid looking at Jon. It wasn’t that he was going to Jon for help or comfort, but he kind of was, and it was embarrassing.

"And what happened?" Jon prompted, sensing that Theon just needed to talk. His input could be saved for later.

“She- ah fuck.” He laughed again, running a hand through his hair. “You know about my brothers, right? The dead ones?” He didn’t give Jon time to reply. “She went, like, dead after they died. Not dead, but, y’know. She doesn’t talk. She did yesterday, she asked for me, and I- I-“ He stopped talking for a minute, blinking rapidly and swallowing thickly. “I was right there, and she kept asking for me, and I was right fucking there. I lost my mom when I was eight, and Yara resents me because I won’t stay there to waste away caring after a woman who is basically dead.”

Jon's face twisted with sympathy. He had never had a mother to begin with—he couldn't imagine having a loving mother and then having her torn away like that. "She tried to make you go back? What the hell... Theon, I'm sorry that happened."

“I know I’m a real ass to you, Jon.” Theon never just called him Jon. It was always Snow, or Jon Snow. “I know I am, and I’m sorry I’m coming here to you, but I don’t know who else to talk to. My dad hated me, my siblings never cared for me, all I had was my mom. Even when my brothers died, they still had to torment me. They took my fucking mother away.” He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, removing any tears that threatened to fall.

Jon was silent for a long while, letting Theon sniffle and get himself together, while giving himself time to gather his thoughts. "Do you remember, five years ago, when I was in the coma?"

“Five years... yes.” Theon nodded, finally looking up at Jon. “I remember that. The kids were all so devastated.”

Jon stood up and stood on his toes, reaching for the ornate dreamcatcher hung above his bed. "Mrs. Stark made this for me while I was out. She... I used to think she loved me," he said, looking down at the dreamcatcher.

In a different situation, Theon might have laughed, but now Jon’s words sent a pang of sympathy through his heart. “She made that for you?” he asked, voice soft. He didn’t say what he was thinking- that it had always been obvious that Catelyn never loved Jon, that Jon used to look so hurt, that he was better at hiding it but Theon could see the pain in his eyes every time he said ‘Mrs. Stark.’ “It’s beautiful.”

"Yeah, because she thought I was going to die. She felt guilty," Jon said viciously. "Guilty because she had wanted me to die, and guilt because she couldn't make up her damned mind and decided I had to live. Then she changed her mind again, but it was too late for me."

_He was an infant when it started. Jon wouldn't remember it, but Catelyn had stared down at him with the utmost revulsion, because before her lay the quietly gurgling, happy face of her husband's infidelity. His little chubby hand reached out to her and she yanked hers away, away from his touch. The baby's big brown eyes stared up at her, still smiling that gummy smile, not understanding._

_When he learned to crawl, it was towards Catelyn, who walked brusquely away from him, never failing to keep her skirts out of reach, lest he seize onto them. When he learned to speak, his first word was 'mama', and he loved to call after her in a sweet little voice._

_"Mama!" he'd cry out, even if she was nowhere near. It was his favorite thing to say, even long after he learned 'dada' and 'doggy' and 'Robb'. He would spend all day long calling for his mama, despite her constant shushes and glares tossed over her shoulder as she walked past, resolutely ignoring him. It was okay, though, because his brother Robb was probably crying in the other room, and he needed her immediate assistance. Jon hardly cried, but he figured Robb must do so a lot, because mama never seemed to have much time for him._

_He was two and a half when Sansa was born, and he watched as mama began doting on her as well, carrying her baby girl around with her, cooing and loving on her like she had only ever had one child before, and was now ecstatic to have another. Jon didn't quite understand that, but it was okay. He was getting_ _big and Sansa was still so little. He loved mama, so he could be patient and wait for his turn. It would come eventually._

_He was six years old when Arya was born, and it was the same thing all over again. He felt a hot stab of jealousy as he watched mama playing with his now months-old baby sister, mama's belly already swollen with another little sibling. He wanted it to be his turn so badly, he couldn't understand why mama never looked his way. Robb and he would play together, and he loved Robb, just the same as he loved little Sansa and baby Arya, but the three of them got all of mama's attention and he couldn't comprehend why. Why didn't she love him too?_

_Then he felt guilty. Of course mama loved him. The others just needed a little extra attention and she didn't have any time to spare, that was all. He was a good little boy, daddy always told him so. He knew mama must love him, because he was her little boy. Mamas always loved their darling boys._

_He was seven when Bran was born, and daddy then took him onto his knee and explained to him very seriously the way things were. There was pity in daddy's eyes, pity that Jon couldn't see, for he was sobbing thick, choking sobs with fat, pearly tears. It was then he learned that daddy was in fact his daddy, but that mama wasn't his mama, and that mama hated him because of that._

_Everything added up then; the revolted looks, the consistent ignoral, the reluctance before she would even speak to him—he was seven years old, and he had lost the mother he never even had. He had asked if he had a mama, and daddy gave him a helpless look, like even he didn't know the answer for that._

_He would leave the office and call his mama 'Mrs. Stark', and he would do so for six years, until the simultaneous best and worst thing happened to him—their car had been struck driving home from soccer practice, and when Jon awoke five days later, there was a dreamcatcher hanging over his hospital bed and his mama was smiling at him, gentle and sweet with all the love he'd never seen from her before, and when he had called her mama, she ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead, and he felt as though he was soaring._

_That barely lasted a week._

_One week, and he called her mama only to receive the same sort of look he was used to. One week, and he lost the mother he had never had, for the second time. The final time. He wouldn't let it happen again._

"I'd never had a mother before. I thought I had. Dad told me otherwise... But then she made this for me," he said, lifting the dreamcatcher so the little interwoven crystals caught the light. "And I thought I had her. I was better off, I think, because I had never known what a mother's love felt like. Now I do... and I've lost it again."

“I’m so sorry.” Theon’s voice was soft, quiet. He had eight years worth of his mother’s love, Jon had one week- and yet they both knew how it felt to have a mother just within reach but still so far away.

Catelyn had never particularly liked or trusted Theon, but she treated him more like a son than she had ever treated Jon. Theon realized it in that moment, and he felt guilt swelling in his gut.

“It’s not your fault. You know that, right? It’s not your fault, the reason she hates you.” Theon hesitantly reached out to put a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

"I know. I think that's the worst thing about it. There's nothing I did, or nothing I can do." To Theon's surprise, Jon leaned into his touch, eyes shut.

Theon was still very hesitant but he scooted a little closer to Jon on the bed, moving his hand up to carefully comb his fingers through his thick, dark curls. They were even softer than they looked, and he found himself having nothing else to say, focusing instead on the way his fingers slid so easily through Jon’s thick hair.

"I'm lucky, though," Jon murmured, sounding at peace. He leaned back further into Theon's touch, and Ghost let out a contented noise and placed his head in Jon's lap. "I had Robb growing up, and the eventually the others. I always had my best friend right beside me." His eyes flicked open, dark brown staring up beseechingly into Theon's greenish-blue. "You didn't have that."

Theon looked back down at him, for once appreciating just how handsome Jon was. He truly looked like a Stark, something about his face. He reminded him of Robb- a sadder version of Robb. “I had a sister who constantly pushed me away, that counts for something, right?” he joked, though his heart was obviously not in it. “And I met Robb when I was eight, anyway. Pretty soon after everything happened with my brothers and my mom.” His fingers caught on a knot in Jon’s hair and he gently combed through it, making sure it was gone before moving to a new section of hair.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. It is impressive, though, that you managed to become who you are. Not many people would have," Jon complimented. He gave a little hum of pleasure as Theon's fingers worked through his hair, tugging loose little tangles here and there. "I think your sister does care about you, in her own way. From what I know about Yara, she's not always the type to put the feelings of others before her own and that can make it hard to see your stance on things. Just give her time," he advised.

“Greyjoys are always stubborn,” Theon said with a hint of a smile, feeling warm and comfortable with Jon’s head resting on his shoulder. Robb was his best friend, of course, but Jon had a similar type of hurt within him, hurt that made him understand Theon’s pain better than Robb could. “One day I’m going to have children, and I won’t let them feel unloved. I know I seem like I’d be a shit dad, but I won’t be.”

Jon sighed wistfully. "I think you would be a good dad. You already have a good sense of what not to do," he said sardonically. "You're already miles ahead than most." He turned his head slightly, allowing Theon a greater range of hair. "I want kids, but not for a little while. Yg—" he broke off, looking awkward. "I want to travel, first. Probably go further North, see what's it's like."

“Cold,” Theon answered teasingly, glad to have access to more of Jon’s hair. It was almost therapeutic, untangling the knots. “I used to want to travel. When I was little, my mother told me all sorts of stories about all the places she’d sailed to. When my brothers died and she lost herself, I stopped caring about seeing the world.”

"I haven't been able to picture myself staying here, not for years now. I want to travel and see what the world has to offer for somebody like me, and see if I can find someplace I actually belong," Jon said longingly.

“Someplace you actually belong,” Theon repeated. “That’s quite the dream.” He looked fondly down at Jon. “You and I are more similar than we think.”

"I guess so," Jon agreed. "You might have to come with me on some of these trips."

“Maybe someday,” Theon agreed with a small nod. “We can’t all live in this town forever.”

"You've found a home here, though," Jon said. "I never will."

Theon couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It’s a home, but this family still isn’t mine. I still don’t belong here. It’s the best I’ll get. I love the Starks, I do, but... as much as they try to make me feel at home, I know I don’t belong here either.” He hesitantly reached out to try and pet Ghost once again.

Ghost regarded the hand for a moment before shutting his eyes and allowing contact to be made. Jon smiled warmly as a grin spread across Theon's face. "Looks like he's forgiven you. Good boy!" he praised.

“Oh, so you don’t hate me anymore?” Theon teased the dog, his whole expression brightened by the grin on his face. He gently scratched behind Ghost’s ear. “He’s even softer than Grey Wind. Do you bathe him every day or something?” Being around all the dogs made Theon wish he had one of his own.

"He gets professionally groomed weekly, and I brush him daily. He needs a lot of work with fur this thick!" Jon said, affectionately ruffling Ghost's fur.

“I wish I had a dog.” Theon sighed, but he sounded content, continuing to pet the albino that seemed to honestly be more like a wolf than a dog.

He sat with Jon in silence for a while, petting the soft pup before reluctantly standing up. “I should really go now, before someone notices you and I are hanging out. Don’t want anyone thinking something happened.” He smiled at Jon, a soft and genuine smile. “Thanks, you know, for talking to me. And... and if you need me, you can come to me. Even if I’m an ass sometimes.”

"Thank you," Jon said seriously, "and the same to you." He sat up, his hair now framing his face in loose waves, and looked at Theon with a sort of new care and familiarity. "Don't worry about what people think, just come and see me if you ever need to talk, or if you need a friend. I can be that for you."

“Thank you,” Theon replied, nodding his head and shooting Jon one last smile before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

Most of the week following Theon’s visit with his mother went by uneventfully. It was just the normal routine- go to school, go back to the Stark house, maybe do homework, drive around and smoke with Robb, fuck around on his phone a bit, shower, and sleep. He hadn’t had to deal with Yara trying to contact him, and for that he was thankful. He’d even been more friendly with Jon, though not to the point where it seemed suspicious. He still teased him and joked around with him, but it wasn’t aimed to hurt him. He’d had Jon laughing along with some of his jokes instead of turning red and storming off. It was an improvement.

By the middle of the week, Theon was feeling pretty normal again, not constantly thinking about his mother. Seeing her had really thrown him off and she’d been constantly in his thoughts, but he was trying to not think of her, and it was starting to work. He entered the math classroom- his last class of the day- ten minutes late. Everyone was already doing work in pairs, and Theon grimaced as he looked around and realized he’d have to work alone. The Hound didn’t waste time scolding him, just smacked a packet down on his desk and told him to get to work. He looked over to find Robb, only to see his best friend hunched over the paper with a pretty girl.

A very, very pretty girl.

Her hair was chestnut brown and fell in loose curls down past her breasts, her eyes were a gentle brown and full of kindness, her body slender and dressed in loose clothing that somehow managed to look flattering. Theon recognized her as Jeyne Westerling. She was looking at Robb as if she planned to marry him, laughing prettily at his whispered jokes and smiling at him, showing her perfect white teeth. Theon felt something twisting unpleasantly in his gut, some sort of sickness or anger, and he forced himself to look away. He couldn’t watch Robb cuddle up to some girl during class. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he hated it.

Robb was having a difficult time trying to explain Descartes' Rule of Signs to the girl, merely because didn't seem like she was paying attention. He figured she must be thinking about something equally funny and distracting, because she kept giggling, and he didn't think anything he had said had been so funny.

"Jeyne," he said, trying to get her attention. She looked at him through her eyelashes, and he sighed in mild annoyance. "Please pay attention, I'm trying to explain this to you."

"Oh," she said, looking caught off guard. "Okay. Sorry." She leaned in closer, her long hair brushing his forearm as he reached for the packet. Her smell was sweet and pleasant, like a perfume Sansa would use. He didn't know if he liked it or not.

He wrote out the formula, and pointed to each _x_ variable. "The number of negative real zeroes of the f(x)," he pointed to this with his pencil, "is the same as the number of changes in sign of the coefficients of the terms of f(-x), or less than this by an even number. Got that?" he asked, looking over at her, and almost startling because he hadn't realized how close her face was to his.

Theon worked on his math but wasn’t getting very far, pausing every few moments to flower at Jeyne and Robb. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was something going on between them and Robb hadn’t told him. His best friend, and he didn’t even know he was talking to Jeyne Westerling, much less getting involved with her. He pulled out his phone under his desk, shooting Robb a text.

_‘U getting some?’_

Robb glanced down as his phone buzzed and grinned to himself.

_'not to my knowledge'_

Theon, although not very pleased about the situation, was perfectly happy to tease Robb about it.

_‘U sure? Chick looks like she’d suck ur cock rn if u let her’_

_'do you think I should?'_ Robb texted back, a little teasingly.

 _‘I think the hound would flay u if u did.'_   Theon looked over to Robb to flash him a grin.

 _'fair point. Maybe you should'_   Robb replied, meeting Theon's gaze and smirking at him.

 _‘Should what? Suck ur cock or have Jeyne suck mine? Slut’_   Theon texted back with a small snicker.

“Greyjoy!” The Hound’s voice broke the silence. “That doesn't look like doing math to me. That looks like you’re texting.”

“That would be because I am texting,” Theon replied without looking up from his phone.

"Let me see that," the Hound ordered, his hand held out for the phone. "Let's see what's so important, you lazy cunt."

“Uh, no,” Theon replied with a shrug, still not looking up from his phone. The Hound leaned forward and snatched Theon's phone anyways, conveniently still open to text. He read it all silently before looking up with a nasty smirk.

"Whose cock are you sucking, Greyjoy?"

Theon responded with a long, agitated groan and put his head down on the desk to avoid answering the question.

"I see the contact name is 'Wolfie' with an emoji?" he read out, smirking broadening. "I wonder who could that be?" Across the room, Robb's cheeks flared red.

“Drowned God, Clegane!” Theon whined, looking back up at The Hound with an annoyed expression, his own cheeks just as red as Robb’s. “Can I have my phone back or do you plan on going through my browsing history too?”

"Should I? Or will I find your werewolf fetish porn?" the Hound asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You- what- no!” Theon exclaimed. “I don’t have a werewolf fetish!” He held out his hand to ask for his phone back, fully aware of the class snickering at him.

The Hound lifted it just out of his reach, continuing to taunt him (like an asshole). "If I kept looking, would I find Stark's nudes?" he sneered.

“No!” Theon looked across the room to see Robb looking just as embarrassed as him. “We don’t- we’re not- I don’t fuck Robb!”

"Of course you don't," the Hound said rudely. "You're the cunt." He dropped the phone back into Theon's hand.

Theon stared at him open-mouthed, face even redder now than before. “I am not!” he argued. He couldn’t understand why everyone thought he’d be a bottom.

"Sure you aren't," he drawled, eyebrow raised. "Don't sext in my class, Greyjoy."

“I wasn’t sexting,” Theon huffed, but he put his phone away.

Jeyne rolled her eyes. "That's so childish. Obviously," she said, stressing the syllables, "you and Greyjoy are just friends." She gave him a glowing look, as though she expected him to nod along. "You know, Robb, I still don't really understand this. Do you think you could tutor me?" she asked, tilting her head cutely.

"Sure," Robb agreed. "Just name a date."

"How about today?" she asked innocently.

Theon noted that the two were talking again but didn’t try to text Robb for the rest of class. He looked confused when Jeyne walked out of the class with them but figured she just wanted to talk to Robb a little more. He found it even weirder when she came out to the car with them. “Wait- she’s coming with us? Where’s she gonna sit?”

"There's a backseat," Robb said slowly, pulling the lever to flip forward the passenger seat so Jeyne could climb in the back. "Remember? I drove us today. Anyways, I'm tutoring her in math. Is that okay, Lord Greyjoy?" he asked jokingly.

“What if I needed tutoring in math?” Theon teased back, pouting at Robb. He waited for Jeyne to get in before pushing his seat back and sitting down, closing the door behind him.

"You're free to join in," Robb said seriously. "Maybe you can get that 68 to a 78!"

As he started the car and backed out of his parking spot, Jeyne leaned forward to speak. "Could we stop at McDavos's? I'm really craving a strawberry smoothie," she asked sweetly.

Theon knew very well that Robb wouldn’t say no, so he just turned back to face her. “As long as you have your own money, pretty girl. Robb’s no sugar daddy.” He teased in a low, flirtatious tone. He had no interest in the Westerling girl, but it was always fun to do a little harmless flirting sometimes. He turned back to look at Robb as they pulled up to the drive-thru. “Hey man, can you buy me some fries?”

Robb rolled his eyes, while Jeyne looked affronted.

"Of course I do!" she cried, at the same time Robb affirmed Theon's request. She looked quickly at him, a little hurt, but said nothing. Robb swung through the drivetru, ordering Theon a large fry, a medium for himself, and a strawberry smoothie with whipped cream for Jeyne. She passed up her money somewhat sullenly, only for it to be waved away as Robb paid for anything.

“Thank you, daddy,” Theon taunted as Robb passed him the fries, pulling one out and eating it as slowly and seductively as one could eat a french fry. Robb laughed, while Jeyne pulled a face and the McDavos's worker in the drive-thru window looked as though she would rather be anywhere else.

"Thank you, Robb," Jeyne said, brushing her fingers unnecessarily along Robb's hand as he handed her the smoothie.

“Oh yes, thank you Robb,” Theon repeated mockingly, dramatically reaching over to stroke Robb’s arm.

"Anything for you, my Lord Greyjoy," Robb said, playing along. Jeyne leaned back in her seat, watching jealously.

"What's in my lesson plan for today, Professor Stark?" she asked pleasantly, trying to steer Robb's attention back to her.

“Oh Robb, you mustn’t forget your lesson plans.” Theon used the most pompous voice he could muster. “Oh wait, do excuse me- I meant to say Professor Stark.”

"I wasn’t talking to you," Jeyne said, shooting him a foul look.

“And I was not talking to you, little lady.” Theon turned his head to look at her. “You know, just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean everything is about you.”

Jeyne gasped, offended, and Robb scolded, "Theon, stop it! Jeyne, I thought we would just go over what we were doing in class, since you said you were having trouble with it."

“The only thing she was having trouble with was holding back from jumping on your cock right then and there.” Theon said with a shrug. With another little gasp of embarrassment, Jeyne hid her face in her hands. Robb glanced back at her, then fiercely over at Theon.

"Thee," he hissed. "What's the matter with you?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger! I’m just telling the truth.”

"You're so rude to her, Thee. She hasn't done anything," he said quietly, so Jeyne wouldn't hear.

Theon huffed in annoyance but turned to look at Jeyne once again. “Sorry.” He sounded like a child who was being forced to apologize.

"It's okay," she said primly, looking as though it was quite the opposite.

The rest of the drive home was in uncomfortable silence, with Theon and Jeyne occasionally shooting dirty looks at one another. He got out of the car, closing the door and walking toward the house before he realized he’d left Jeyne stuck in the backseat. He went back to let her out with an unapologetic, “Oops.”

She climbed out, giving him a dirty look, before trotting off after Robb. "Wait up!" she called.

Theon was the first to get to the door, opening it and grinning as Grey Wind barreled out past him to get to Robb. Shaggydog crept up to the doorway as well, followed by a sleepy looking Rickon, but he didn’t run outside and Theon reached down to pet him. Jeyne jumped back with a shriek as the enormous Grey Wind rushed towards them, while Robb dropped to his knees to give his dog a bearhug. The dog panted happily, leaning his whole bodily weight into Robb.

"Jeyne, he's friendly, just pat him," Robb said. She reached out hesitantly, fingers barely brushing over the soft fur before she backed away again.

"He's really big," she said in a small voice.

Theon tipped his head back and laughed, not really caring that Robb might be mad at him for it. “Baby Rickon literally owns one of these dogs- he’s half your size and he’s not scared of them, but you are? Really?”

"I've never seen dogs this big before!" she said defensively. "I have a French bulldog— I'm used to small dogs, okay?"

"It's fine," Robb said, smiling up at her. "You'll get used to them."

Theon’s eyes narrowed. Her getting used to them implied that she’d be around the house more than just today. He huffed in annoyance and stepped inside, looking down at Rickon, who looked back up at him with big blue eyes.

“Thee?” The young boy pouted up at him. “No one’s playin’ with me. Jon’s doin’ work and Sansa is too and Ary told me she doesn’t wanna.” He held out a hand, looking hopeful.

Theon smiled softly down at him, taking one last glance at Robb before gently taking Rickon’s hand in his. “I’ll play with you, little dude. What are we gonna play?” He walked away from Robb and Jeyne without looking back, happily letting Rickon lead him to his room while talking about puppies and castles and dragons.

A couple of hours later, Theon realized Jeyne wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon, and he decided to make plans with Ros. The redhead was always quick to reply and easy to make plans with, it was part of why Theon always liked her so much. She was at the Stark house in under five minutes, even though Theon was pretty sure Baelish lived ten minutes away. He hurried out to her car, smiling brightly at her.

“Hey!”

“Hey, Theon.” She smiled back at him, and he was reminded of how beautiful she was. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright. A lot has been happening lately, but whatever.” He shrugged as she pulled out of the Stark parking lot. “How about you?”

“I’ve been okay. You said a lot has happened- wanna tell me what?”

Theon launched into an explanation, and he didn’t get back the Stark house until much later that night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's like 5k words of pure porn. You're welcome :)

Over the course of the next week, Jeyne was around more and more. True to Robb's word, she had grown comfortable enough to pet Grey Wind with ease, but she still kept a wary on him and the other dogs, especially Ghost, who had taken to lurking around downstairs instead of hiding in Jon's room with him. The dog looked distinctly disgruntled, sitting slouched on the couch, glaring with surly red eyes at anything that walked by.

It was Tuesday, the 18th of December, and Jeyne had come home with Robb and Theon once again. The two of them were bent over the kitchen table, poring over the night's math homework—or rather, Robb was. Jeyne was making eyes at him, clearly thinking about far different things than math.

Theon was, much like Ghost, looking disgruntled and surly. He pat the dog on the head as he walked past, frowning down at him. He crouched down after a moment, gently petting him. “Yeah, I know," he muttered. “Our best pals are too busy for both of us lately, aren’t they?”

Ghost growled in agreement, laying his head down on his paws. He licked Theon's hand once before averting his gaze, signalling he had had enough attention.

Theon rolled his eyes and stood back up. “You are not good at comforting people," he scolded Ghost jokingly, giving him one final pat before heading up the stairs. Robb was too busy getting his ass kissed by Jeyne, so he’d see what Jon was up to. He threw open Jon’s bedroom door, not caring to knock first, and froze at the sight greeting him inside.

“Fuck,” he said weakly, eyes widening. “I should’ve knocked.”

The redheaded girl was there, and she was definitely more than a friend. Both her and Jon were naked, and she was currently riding Jon's cock like there was no tomorrow. She stopped when they saw Theon, and while Jon's eyes grew wide with horror, hers narrowed with anticipation.

"Hey there," she greeted casually, as though she wasn't currently sitting on Jon's dick.

Theon’s gaze was glued to where Jon’s cock was buried inside the girl and he gulped, his own cock twitching uncomfortably in his pants. “Hi,” he said, forcing himself to look up at her face, his own flushed red. “I’m Theon.”

"Well, Theon," she drawled. "Would you care to join us?"

"Ygritte!" Jon said furiously.

"Jon, your dick got harder the second you saw him," Ygritte said with a roll of her eyes.

Theon stepped inside and shut the door behind him, realizing that he’d rather not any of the kids walk past. “Was that a legitimate offer?” His eyes traveled back downwards, focusing on her tits.

Ygritte rose off of Jon's dick and knelt beside him, wrapping her fingers around the length of his cock. "Oh, I'm serious." She stroked along Jon's cock, teasing him. "Are you, my crow?"

Jon nodded tersely, starting into Theon's eyes. "If he wants to."

“Drowned fuck,” Theon groaned, voice barely above a whisper, now staring at Jon’s cock. He remembered when he’d had it in his mouth, so fucking thick, and he wondered vaguely how the hell Ygritte managed to ride him without splitting in half. “This is actually serious? You’re not joking?” He looked from Jon to Ygritte, then back to Jon, seeing that they were serious. “Fuck,” he repeated, starting to rush to take off his clothes.

"Well, here I thought you might want to fuck me, but I see you have other... things in mind," Ygritte purred, following Theon's gaze and leaning in, dragging her tongue up the length of Jon's dick. "Mm," she moaned softly as he twitched against her.

Theon cursed under his breath, hurriedly removing the rest of his clothes and walking over to the bed, kneeling on the side of Jon opposite Ygritte. He glanced up at Jon, a smirk slowly tugging at the corners of his lips. He then looked at Ygritte, watching the way her tongue moved along Jon’s cock, and he leaned in to repeat the same action she’d just done, wrapping his lips around the head when he his tongue reaching the head and sucking gently. Jon groaned softly, his hand coming up to fist Theon's hair. Ygritte sat back and watched with a grin.

"Lube is here, if you want it," she said, holding up the little bottle.

Theon nodded as best he could before taking more of Jon’s cock in his mouth, moaning around it as Jon’s fingers tangled in his hair. The feeling of Jon’s cock in his mouth was familiar, even though he’d only felt it once more. His own cock was rock hard, curved slightly upwards, the head flushed deep pink.

Ygritte's hands, surprisingly calloused, rose to touch Theon's lower back. "Do you want more, Theon?" she whispered, leaning in close. "I can give you more. Get you ready..." and her tongue trailed over her lower lip, "ready for him, if you want."

Theon tried to moan the word “Fuck,” but it came out muffled around Jon’s cock. He wiggled his ass a tiny bit, trying to tell Ygritte that yes, he wanted, he really fucking wanted. He took Jon’s cock into his mouth all the way, moaning loudly when it hit the back of his throat.

Ygritte bit her lip, eyes sparkling with excitement as she popped the cap on the lube bottle, coating her fingers in it. She traced a finger around his hole, teasing it. "Here?" she asked, while Jon held down Theon's head and fucked up into his mouth. Theon tried to push his hips back to get her to just slide the finger in, moaning around Jon’s cock. His own was leaking precome, achingly hard, and he hadn’t even touched it yet.

She worked her finger in, past the second knuckle, testing him before she fit in another. "Ohh, you're tight. Jon, he feels good," she hummed. "You'll like this—almost as much as you like me fucking you," she added playfully, blowing a kiss at him. She twisted her fingers inside Theon, stretching him, and leaned in close to his ear. Her teeth trailed sharp against the shell of his ear, her breath warm. "Think you can take a third?"

It felt so good, her fingers buried and twisting inside of him, and he shuddered with pleasure when he felt her teeth and her breathing against his skin. His next moan sounded more like a whine, higher pitched than the earlier ones, and he continued pushing back against her.

"I think you can," she breathed, and she pressed her third finger into him, slowly. "You're fucking my hand like a slut, Theon," she chuckled. "You're desperate for this, aren't you?"

Theon slowly lifted his head, mouth pulling off of Jon’s cock with a small, wet sound. “Fuck, yes," he groaned, wiggling his hips. “Fuck- can I ride Jon? Jon, can I ride you?” He looked desperately from Ygritte to Jon, face flushed red from arousal and lack of breath.

"Fuck," Jon moaned, "please, Theon, yes."

Ygritte laughed, and her face lit up so prettily. She pulled her fingers from Theon's ass with a wet, slick sound and retrieved the lube bottle. "Is he wet enough from your mouth, or do you want a little extra?"

“Uh- a little extra. Just to be safe.” Theon moved from Jon’s side to straddle him, holding out a hand for Ygritte to pour some extra lube into his hand. He used it to slick up Jon’s cock before slowly lowering himself onto it, eyes wide as the head slid all the way in. He hovered there for a moment, adjusting. “Oh fuck- fuck, this thing is huge, Jon. Ygritte, how’d you fucking fit this thing?”

"Practice," Ygritte said simply. "Practice and patience. Trust me," she said, patting his shoulder, "it's worth it."

Jon's grip was tight enough to bruise on Theon's hips, his eyes on Theon's dripping cock, jaw tight with restraint. "Ygritte," he grunted, "you were right."

“Fuckin’ uncomfortable," Theon cursed, but lowered himself down more. Even if it was uncomfortable, it still felt good, being so stretched, so full. He knew from experience that the discomfort would fade on its own. He paused a moment to take a deep breath before forcing himself the rest of the way down onto Jon’s cock with a low groan, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he did. He squirmed a bit in Jon’s lap once his cock was all the way inside him, trying to adjust quicker to the stretch.

"I want you in me too, my crow," Ygritte purred, hands toying with her own breasts. She straddled Jon's chest, and he lifted his chin with a husky groan, meeting her eyes, and she grinned down at him before she sat on his face. Jon's cock twitched inside Theon and his hips bucked up, unbidden.

Theon cried out at the sudden movement and he started moving himself, hands and knees resting on the bed on either side of Jon. He was lifting himself up and rolling his hips back down, watching with half-lidded eyes as Ygritte moved, wishing he could see Jon’s tongue on her cunt. “Fuck, Jon. I’ve wanted this thing inside me since- ah- since the day I saw it.” He considered reaching down to stroke his own cock but decided against it, instead increasing the pace at which he was riding Jon. He moved his hands to lean back a little and suddenly yelped, eyes rolling back as Jon’s cock brushed his prostate. He let out a whispered stream of curse words before lifting his hips up and dropping down again, his cock driving into the same spot.

Jon's hips rose to meet Theon's movements, groaning into Ygritte's dripping pussy as he ate her out. She moaned, twisting her fingers through the loose curls of Jon's hair, riding his mouth like Theon rode his dick. Theon was riding Jon’s cock like his life depended on it, being much louder than he likely should’ve been. He was thankful that the Starks were rich and had rooms with thick walls, because he sounded like some sort of cheap whore, moaning and bucking his hips.

Pulling back from Ygritte, Jon swore loudly, and as Ygritte moved off of him, Jon lurched up and slanted his mouth against Theon's, kissing him deeply, swallowing down his next cry. Theon kissed him back hungrily, the bittersweet taste of Ygritte on his lips along with the thick cock driving repeatedly into his sweet spot sending him over the edge. He felt himself coming and reached down, stroking himself through it while practically sobbing against Jon’s lips from the intense, pure pleasure, his semen leaking out all over his hand and splattering onto Jon’s stomach. His nerves were on fire, hands curled into fists, clenching impossibly tight around Jon’s cock.

In a swift movement, Jon had flipped Theon over and pinned him to the mattress, fucking him in quick, hard thrusts. Ygritte moaned under her breath, watching, her fingers on her cunt.

"You're not talking much," Jon murmured against Theon's lips. "Why is that?"

Theon moaned helplessly, overstimulated, but Jon’s cock driving into him still felt so good. It hurt a bit, being so sensitive, but the pain was sending shocks of heat and pleasure through his nerves. He felt like he was floating, the way Jon was slamming into him. “I-I-“ he stammered, trailing off into a moan. “Fuck, fuck, your cock is- ah, fuck- so big.” His voice was weak and pitched higher than usual, cracking with pleasure.

"You sound like a whore," Jon remarked, voice tight. He looked up at Ygritte, almost desperately, and she came closer, pressing her lips to his in a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, kneeling over Theon's face to reach.

Theon eagerly lifted his head enough to reach her cunt, tongue reaching out to toy with her clit. He moaned at how wet she was, how bittersweet she tasted on his tongue. He loved using his mouth, swirling his tongue around her clit and then moving it toward her hole, dipping it in just a bit before dragging it back to her clit again, moaning all the while, hips bucking in time with Jon’s thrusts.

Though she squeaked in surprise at the initial touch, Ygritte soon was riding the sensation. "I think he likes us," Ygritte said to Jon in a stage-whisper. "Can we keep him?"

"Ah, he's—mm, fuck! He is good, isn't he?" Jon groaned, slamming into him as Theon twitched around him.

Theon closed his eyes and just let himself feel everything- the way Ygritte’s cunt twitched every so often beneath his tongue, the way Jon kept slamming into just the right spot... His cock, still more sensitive than normal, was fully hard once again. “Jon, fuck,” he moaned against Ygritte’s pussy between strokes of his tongue. “So big, so fucking big, Drowned God.” His moans were practically sobs, his body in an intense state of pleasure like he’d never felt before.

"So much for having a chode, huh?" Jon laughed, somewhat breathlessly. Ygritte burst out laughing, falling to the side.

"He said that?" she choked out. "But here he is, moaning like a bitch in heat!"

"Not for the first time, either," Jon told her.

“You- fuck-“ Theon gasped. “Fucker- you fat cocked- ah!” His hips bucked at a particularly hard thrust. “I never said you d-didn’t still have a fucking... chode...” He trailed off breathlessly, head tipping back.

"Oh?" Jon pulled out, his cock impossibly hard and dripping. "Is that so? Maybe you would just prefer to go fuck yourself then?"

Theon whined, feeling horribly empty at the sudden removal of Jon’s cock. “No!” he insisted, wriggling his hips to try and get back into Jon’s cock. “No, don’t- fucking bastard- don’t stop!”

Jon grabbed Theon's waist and flipped him over easily, planting a heavy hand between his shoulder blades and pressing his face into the mattress. He leaned in close, cock sliding wet against the cleft of his ass, to whisper hotly against Theon's ear, "I suggest you shut your mouth then, Greyjoy."

With one hard, punishing thrust, Jon buried himself in Theon again, jolting his whole body forward with the force of it.

Theon sobbed with relief, the feeling of Jon’s cock slamming back inside of him feeling even better than when he’d been fucking him before. Jon’s low voice sent chills down his spine and tendrils of pleasure twisting in the pit of his stomach. He moaned like a slut into the mattress, pushing his ass back toward Jon with each thrust, his own cock hanging hard and wet and sensitive between his legs. Jon’s cock felt heavenly inside him, and all he could think of was wanting more, not wanting it to stop again.

Jon kept one hand holding Theon down, while the other slid up his side, ghosting feather-light touches along all the right places to send shivers along Theon's nerves. His fingers glided along to halt maddeningly close to Theon's weeping cock.

Ygritte grabbed Jon by the hair and turned his head to kiss her again. "Babe," he said quietly against her lips. "Go get it." She slipped carefully from the bed, and Jon doubled the force of his thrusts, fucking Theon into the mattress.

Theon wanted so badly to reach back and touch his cock, but he didn’t, clutching the bedsheets in his fists. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Jon’s cock pounding into his ass, the shameful vulnerability of his face being pushed into the mattress with his bare ass shoved in the air, cock darkly flushed and wet with his own come, dripping even more precome down onto the sheets. He could barely hear anything other than the slick sounds of Jon’s cock thrusting inside him and his own moans, and an image formed in his mind of Robb being the one behind him, pushing him down and fucking him violently. His cock twitched and he sobbed into the mattress, imagining Robb- Robb’s cock, Robb’s hands, Robb wanting him and fucking him like there was no tomorrow. The thought alone was almost enough to make him come.

A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and lifted his face from the mattress, interrupting his chain of thoughts.

"I got something for you," Ygritte purred, coaxing his eyes open. She wore a cherry red strap on, jutting inches from his lips, and a self-satisfied look. "You're just a little cockslut, aren't you? Well, here you go."

Theon looked up at her with half-lidded eyes, clouded with lust, and instantly leaned forward to take it in his mouth. He didn’t have to be as careful with the strap on as he did with Jon’s cock. He immediately started sucking on it, eager and sloppy, face flushed deep red. He was especially happy for the fake cock in his mouth when he came for the second time, practically screaming from the intensity of the orgasm, drooling around the strap on and closing his eyes tight, come spurting out onto the sheets.

"Good boy," Ygritte praised, tugging lightly at his hair. "Think you can deepthroat me?"

"Fuck, Theon, keep— keep on doing that," Jon groaned. He had clenched around him so deliciously when he came, creating incredible friction that had Jon's cock twitching, feeling as though he was about to burst.

Theon, trembling from the force of his orgasm, eagerly took the strap on in all the way, deepthroating her. He was trembling and bucking his hips back against Jon’s cock, looking even more like a greedy little whore when he was. He slowly came down from his orgasm, whimpering with each new intense thrust of Jon’s cock. He wanted Jon to come- not so that it’d be over, but so he could feel it inside him, hot and wet and filling him up. Jon had other things in mind, and in order to stave off his orgasm, he slowed his punishing thrusts to an agonizing speed, pushing long and deep into him, dragging.

Theon sobbed around the strap on, his body trembling from the stimulation. It felt so good, so intense that he could barely even think. His tears were dripping down his cheeks and he felt so fucking good, Jon’s cock in him feeling so heavenly and yet so intense, his own cock hypersensitive and aching. He could die happy like that, he thought, with a cock in his ass and his mouth stuffed full, feeling so stimulated that couldn’t even think of anything else.

Even in Theon’s overstimulated and sensitive state, Jon’s slow thrusts weren’t enough, not after he’d been pounding into him for so long. Theon whined around the strap on, pushing his hips back, purposely clenching tighter around Jon to try and tell him to stop being a tease.

"Did you want more, Greyjoy?" Jon asked teasingly. He knew he would spend if he resumed his pace, but Theon was being such a good boy, asking so nicely, that Jon just might give it to him.

Theon tried to say yes but it was, of course, muffled, so he weakly wriggled his hips back against Jon instead.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." Jon stilled his movements, though granted it wasn't much of a change, and palmed at Theon's ass.

Theon whined loudly in annoyance, reluctantly lifting his mouth off the fake cock. “Yes, fuck, Jon, please!” He panted, pushing his hips back again. “More.” His voice was hoarse, desperate, “More, please!”

"If you wish," Jon murmured, and he was fucking him harder than he had before, so Theon's body shook with every thrust.

Theon’s cock was limp between his legs but he was still so turned on, living for the sensations of Jon’s cock slamming into his prostate. “Fuck, Jon, fuck me with your huge fucking cock.” He didn’t care how ridiculous he sounded, how slutty and cheap. “Fucking come in me, Jon, f-fucking come inside me, please.”

"You're turning him into a cheap pornstar," Ygritte giggled. "Keep going!" She leaned over Theon, fake cock sliding wetly against his cheek, to grab Jon by both sides of his face, kissing him again. "Make him yours, my crow," she breathed out against his lips.

Jon groaned at that, spilling deep inside Theon, riding out his orgasm. Theon pressed his own face into the mattress to muffle the sound he made, cock gently and painfully twitching back to life, becoming half-hard once again at the feeling of Jon’s come inside him, that thick cock twitching and pulsing.

He pulled out, and Ygritte eagerly climbed over to sit behind Theon. "He's dripping with you," she observed. "Can I fuck him next? Hey, Theon, do you want my cock in you too?"

Theon whimpered when Jon pulled out, feeling some of the come trickle out of him. He felt terribly empty and eagerly moaned out a soft “Yes,” when Ygritte asked, propping himself up weakly on his elbows so he could turn back to look at them. He himself looked like a mess, hair all out of place, face flushed, pupils blown and drool on his chin.

Ygritte spread him open and slid in easily, sinking in to the base. Jon leaned back, watching, hand on his cock to coax it back up.

"You look so good like that, Greyjoy," Jon hissed.

Theon moaned at the praise. “Thank you- oh fuck!” His breath hitched as Ygritte slid in, his eyes rolling back. His arms gave out under him and he let his chest fall flat against the mattress once again, turning his head to this side so he could breath easier.

"Careful, Greyjoy... Now that she's got you, she won't let go until you're coming dry," Jon warned. Ygritte grinned, fucking Theon with harder thrusts as though to agree with Jon.

“Wha-“ Theon’s eyes widened at Jon’s warning, his cock slowly working up to full hardness. “Dry? That’s not- that’s not even possible!”

"Oh, you don't even know... I do, trust me. You'll know too by the time she's through with you," Jon assured him, watching Ygritte's hips thrust against Theon's, watching the cherry red cock sink into Theon over and over, and the gleam in Ygritte's eyes that said how much she was enjoying this.

“Drowned God...” Theon moaned, pushing his hips back against her with each thrust. “There’s no way- I can’t keep coming.” The strap on wasn’t quite as thick as Jon’s cock, but it felt good, and Ygritte was angling each thrust perfectly.

"You will," Jon said, and his hand found its way to Theon's half-hard cock. "And when she's done with you... I'll fuck you again."

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Theon cursed, over and over, cock twitching to full hardness in Jon’s hand. He didn’t know how long he could last this time, every inch of his body so overly sensitive. He couldn’t imagine coming again, but he knew couldn’t hold off for long.

Ygritte pulled a dragging thrust over the sweet spot, sending sparks up Theon's spine. "Do you like that, little cockslut? You look so pretty down there," she praised.

Theon lost it at the praise, sobbing as he came, eyes tightly shut. He didn’t even know he could come that many times directly in a row, but it was happening, just a few small spurts of come dripping out of his cock. Ygritte pulled out, removing the strap on and tossing it aside carelessly. She tugged Theon up by the arms, giggling at his winded expression, and leaned him back against Jon, whose arms wrapped loosely around him, hand still on his cock. She lay back and spread her legs, showing off a nest of soft red curls and glistening wet folds.

"Want it?" she asked in a husky voice.

“Fuck...” Theon whispered, looking down at her cunt. He glanced slowly back at Jon, then to Ygritte, eyes half-lidded. “Can I... can I eat you out?”

"I have an IUD— you can do whatever you want," she invited. "You can do that, you can fuck me..." She spread her legs wider and arched her back a bit. "Right now, I'm all yours."

Behind Theon, Jon groaned, eyes hot on her skin, but he merely stroked up Theon's cock.

“Oh, fuck.” Theon looked down to her cunt, whimpering at Jon’s hand stroking his cock. He didn’t think it was possible, but his cock was getting hard again, painfully, achingly hard. “I can’t- oh my god.” He shuddered, panting softly before moving off of Jon and taking his cock in his own hand, positioning himself in front of Ygritte, hands shaking. He was staring down at his own cock in shock, then lustfully at Ygritte’s cunt, and he slowly began to push in.

She shut her eyes, relishing the stretch as he sank into her. Behind him, Jon had slipped a hand down to squeeze at Theon's ass, slipping a finger into his hole.

"I promised I'd fuck you again, Greyjoy," Jon said softly.

“You did," he moaned, closing his eyes at the feeling of her cunt, right and wet, around his cock. “Fuck, Ygritte, you feel good.” His voice shook on the final word. He took a moment to adjust to the sensation before starting to fuck her, slowly, rolling his hips.

Ygritte sighed with pleasure. "Oh, Jon, we really have to keep him around. He's goood," she said. Theon was pushed forward a bit as Jon sank into him again.

"Yeah," he panted.

Theon barely had to do any work with Jon fucking him- each thrust had his own hips jerking forward, making his cock thrust into Ygritte at the same time Jon thrusted into him. Both of them were so fucking pretty, Ygritte and Jon, and he was at a perfect angle to kiss the redhead. He leaned down and did just that, thought it was more gently than he’d kissed Jon. Ygritte's lips were full and plush, almost made for kissing, and Jon's own pretty mouth was licking and biting at Theon's throat, bound to leave a mark to match the bruises along Theon's hips.

Theon moaned against Ygritte’s lips, his cock twitching inside her cunt. He was feeling close again, he didn’t even know how, he’d just came minutes ago, he felt so sensitive and so aching. One of Jon's hands snuck between Ygritte's and Theon's bodies, seeking out Ygritte's clit, and he toyed with it, drawing out delicious little moans. Her muscles tightened with pleasure around Theon's cock and she gasped against his lips. Theon’s face flushed dark, dark red as he came a fourth time, cock giving a weak twitch. A few drips of semen came out and he pressed his face into the crook of Ygritte’s neck, panting heavily.

"You're all out, huh?" Ygritte sighed sympathetically. "I do that to Jon, too," she said in a mock whisper. She was content to lay back and enjoy the ride, her tits soft and flush again Theon's chest as Jon fucked him into her.

“I can’t- I can’t come again,” Theon said weakly, words a bit muffled and strained. “Oh fuck, Jon, Ygritte, I can’t.” Though he claimed he couldn’t, something in him wanted to, the same part of him that was loving every painful, pleasure fuck thrust of Jon’s cock inside of him, despite his sensitivity.

"You will," Jon grunted, slamming into him. "Trust me."

Ygritte grabbed Theon by the hair and pulled him down for another kiss.

“I can’t, I can’t, oh...” His babbling turned into a deep, low moan as she kissed him, his soft cock still buried inside her. Her lips were so soft, felt so good against him, and her breasts felt good pressed against his chest.

Jon pulled Theon's hips up, angling deeper and driving into his prostate. Ygritte nipped playfully at Theon's lip. Her own hand was now down toying with her clit, pulling soft little moans from her lips. Theon felt something snap inside him, pleasure wracking his body even with his cock soft, Jon’s cock against his prostate forcing him to orgasm, and suddenly everything went blissfully black.

Immediately, Jon stopped and pulled out. "Did he just—"

Ygritte started laughing. "That's so cute! Aw, crow, we wore him out!"

Theon came to just a few moments later, feeling a bit dizzy and still laying on top of Ygritte. He groaned, hypersensitive. “Did I- did I just-?”

"Pass out?" asked Ygritte cheerfully, having moved out from underneath him. "Yup," she said, popping the 'p'. "Did we play too hard?"

“Drowned fuck.” Theon rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, a dazed gap-toothed smile on his face. “That was... fucking insane. Jon, I think your come is fucking dripping out of me onto the sheets.”

"Well, feel free to stop by again," Ygritte purred. Jon's eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, trailing along the wreck of Theon that they had created.

"Yeah," Jon said huskily. Ygritte turned to him, climbing into his lap and crashing her lips to his. She slipped the length of him inside her, riding him at a slow and passionate pace.

Theon closed his eyes, too sensitive and worn out to get up or really watch. He didn’t mean to, but he drifted off to sleep, a gentle sleep that was nothing but dark and soothing. No bad dreams. Just floating.


	14. Chapter 14

Acting normally around each other had become nigh impossible, and in the coming days, they would sneer at each other with all sorts of new hidden connotations. Ghost, on the other hand, seemed to have taken a liking to Theon. Afterwards, with the first sniff the wolfdog was a little caught off guard, but decided that if his master liked him _that_ much, he may as well too. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice the change, but when Ygritte was sneaking back out of Jon's window that night, she had asked when he would be joining them again. Jon didn't know what to tell her.

They were piled into the van now, the whole family, and Arya was squished into the backseat with Robb, Jon, and Theon. She kept voicing her discomfort, but even she was tactful enough to know to not blame Theon, the extra presence taking up a seat. No matter how much the kids pestered him, Ned would not tell them where they were going. Catelyn, as well, kept her mouth shut, merely smiling a knowing smile that drove them all mad with intense longing to know.

As much as Theon loved the dogs, he did not understand why the fuck they had to bring six bigass wolfdogs in a seven person van that already had nine people in it. Lady and Summer were, thankfully, on the floor in front of Sansa and Bran’s seats, with Nymeria and Shaggydog lying between them. Rickon was sleeping on Sansa’s lap. Ghost was sleeping on the floor in front of the four of them crammed in the back, but Grey Wind found it necessary to lay on top of them.

“You guys really couldn’t get pomeranians or something?” Theon grumbled, squished between the side of the car and Robb, looking in disgust at the where there were what looked like melted gummy bear remnants stuck to the cup holder. Grey Wind’s head was on top of him and it was heavy. Grey Wind wasn’t sleeping either, the rude little bastard, he kept shifting around and making it uncomfortable for everyone. Grey Wind shifting made all of them have to shift, which also resulted in someone accidentally kicking Ghost, and soon all the wolf dogs were howling in harmony and Theon was ready to jump out of the moving van.

"And there goes the wolf choir," Arya sighed. "Robb, can you please move over? You're squishing me."

Robb obliged, and in the middle row, Sansa was voicing complaints.

"Lady, please stop howling!" she begged. "Dad, how long until we're there? Rickon is drooling on my pants."

“Just a bit longer.” Ned responded in an even tone. “Just relax.”

Rickon woke up from Sansa’s shouting and the dogs howling and immediately started crying, ears hurting from all the noise. “Shaggy, no!” he wailed. “Quiet, Shaggy, quiet!”

“I think Ghost must have said something funny.” Theon shot a look over at Jon. “And now they’re all laughing about it.”

Jon's cheeks colored pink and he leaned down to face his dog. "Ghost, what did I say about gossiping?" he asked, quite seriously. Ghost gave him a thoroughly unamused look.

Catelyn turned her head and glowered at Jon. "Quiet your dog, Jon. He's riling up the others."

"Yes, Mrs. Stark," Jon said softly. Ned cast a sideways look at Catelyn, almost disappointed. She sighed and turned back around.

“I mean, Ghost only howled because someone accidentally kicked him because Grey Wind keeps squirming so, with all respect, Mrs. Stark,” Theon began, “It’s kinda Grey Wind’s fault.” He gave the wolf dog a pat on the head and Grey Wind lifted his head and turned it so it was laying on Robb instead, as if he knew Theon had just thrown him under the bus.

Looking as though she had swallowed something sour, Catelyn said, "My apologies, then, Jon," and she didn't say another word.

Jon glanced swiftly over at Theon, thanking him with his eyes, before looking back at Ghost, petting him lovingly. Rickon sniffled and squirmed in Sansa’s lap, rubbing his eyes with his little fists, calming down a bit now that it was quieter. Shaggydog lifted his head off the ground and uttered a tiny ‘awoo,’ making Rickon giggle. Theon snorted at the dog’s small act of defiance.

Robb bit back a laugh of his own, hands in Grey Wind's thick fur. Despite this, the atmosphere in the van was very tense and uncomfortable, due to Catelyn and Jon's exchange. It was only when Ned pulled into the parking lot of a skating rink that the kids absolutely lost their minds. Theon didn’t have the best manners, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing when they pulled up at the skating rink. He was sitting behind Bran, who couldn’t walk, much less skate, and the image of the prim and proper young boy rolling around the rink in his chair was enough to almost bring Theon to tears.

Robb, appropriately guessing what had Theon stifling laughter, elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a foul look. "Really?" he hissed.

“Sorry,” Theon managed through muffled laughter, “I can’t help it.”

“Skates!” Rickon exclaimed, squirming to get off of Sansa’s lap as quickly as possible. Shaggydog and him were the first ones out of the car, followed by Arya, who’d pushed Sansa back down into her seat while getting past her.

"Kids, wait! Don't run off!" Catelyn called after them, climbing out of the van. Sansa followed suit with a huff, Lady at her heels. Nymeria leaped out of the van and bounded off after Arya.

Jon was next out, leading Ghost, and Grey Wind, who was still peeved at Theon, hopped out without a second glance. Theon ended up being the second to last out, Robb leaving before him to help Bran get into his chair. He leaned over to smack Jon’s ass while no one was looking and then walked past as if nothing had happened, going to see if Robb needed help with Bran.

“Skates!” Rickon exclaimed again, one of his small fists holding onto Shaggy’s fur, the wolf dog pressed up against him.

Ghost and Jon exchanged looks; Jon rolled his eyes and Ghost merely looked at him with as much as an amused look as a dog could muster.

"Do you want to ice skate or roller skate, sweetie?" Catelyn asked, catching up to Rickon. Ned wheeled Bran along, Summer padding alongside him obediently, and Robb and Theon joined up with Jon.

Theon purposely took the spot in the middle between the two, slinging an arm over each of their shoulders. “So, boys,” he grinned, “What are we going to do?”

"First, you're going to stop touching me," Jon said, though he really didn't mind. "I don't really care after that."

Robb observed Theon's breath puffing out in a white cloud. "Do you want to go inside first?"

“Oh dearest Jon, you do hurt my feelings.” Theon sighed dramatically, not making any effort to remove his arm. “And absolutely. I’d love to not freeze my balls off, Robb, thank you.”

"Let's go, then," Robb said, taking the lead and bringing them inside to the roller rink. Grey Wind and Ghost lurked around by the glass door, looking in after them forlornly, before bolting off to play with the other dogs by the ice skate rink, where Arya and Sansa had headed.

Ned had also gone inside, pushing Bran’s wheelchair. Rickon was outside with the girls, refusing to part with Shaggy. Ned paid for all of them to rent their skates, and soon the boys were all sitting on one of the benches lacing them up. Theon had never gone roller skating before- not that he’d admit that- and he was not having fun trying to stand up after tying them on.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled, getting to his feet then instantly falling back on his ass on the bench when they rolled out from under him.

Jon, who was lacing up a pair of roller blades, merely laughed at him, while Robb crouched down in his own skates to help Theon up. Ned approached them, wheeling Bran, who was holding a box of overpriced roller rink candy.

"You have to balance your weight," he advised. "Don't stand up so fast."

“My ass hurts," Theon whined, the same complaint Jon had heard all fucking day three or four days before. He tried to stand again, slower this time, but fell the second he tried to take a step. He grabbed onto Robb’s arm to try and balance himself, but it ended up with both of them on the floor.

"It wouldn't if you would take it easy," Ned said with a skeptical look. Robb stood up with a groan, pulling Theon up once again and steadying him. "Theon, you can't walk like you normally would. Watch." He demonstrated moving around on his own skates, slow so Theon could see.

“Okay...” Theon grumbled, hesitantly standing up, not keen on the idea of ending up on his ass on the floor again. He almost got from the bench to the actual skating area before landing on his ass again with an annoyed grunt, face flushed red. As though for the pure purpose of showing off, a gaggle of preteen girls zoomed by on the rink, giggling raucously. Ned helped Theon up once again, donning a look of sympathy.

"You're getting the hang of it," he said encouragingly. "Just keep trying."

“If I keep trying, I’m gonna end up with my ass black and blue.” Theon grumbled to himself, placing a hand against the wall. “How the hell do people do this?”

"Practice," Jon said, laughing as he spun gracefully past on his roller blades.

"He's being a twat about it, but he's right. Practice," said Robb.

Theon glared after Jon. “I’m gonna shove these skates up his ass if he does that again.” He moved slowly, still holding onto the wall.

"You'd have to catch him first," Ned said, watching Jon skate with fondness in his eyes. "That boy has always been nimble."

"Especially when he knows he's in trouble," Robb muttered. He offered Theon his arm to hang onto for balance. "Wanna try it out? We'll go slow."

Theon clung to Robb as a child would cling to their mother, holding his arm in an almost bruising grip. His face was still red with embarrassment, but he was doing better, still wobbly and hesitant, but he hadn’t yet fallen again. With careful regard to Theon's stability and comfort level, Robb started skating, showing Theon how to move his feet to glide gracefully over the rink. Ned leaned over the edge of the barrier, watching them.

"See?" he called. "You're doing it."

Theon tried not to smile, pleased by Ned’s encouragement. He still fell on his ass a few times, but soon enough he was able to skate without Robb’s help, doing slow laps around the rink.

As Theon looped around the rink, passing Ned and Bran again, the boy clapped for him, young face flushed with joy. Robb was racing Jon, lapping around the rink and dodging the preteen girls with ease.

The door to the outdoor ice rink opened and Arya strolled in. Nymeria's face was framed in the glass, tense and waiting. "Hey, Jon!" Arya called out to him. "Come outside! The ice rink is huge!"

Theon was hoping that Robb wouldn’t go outside as well- he’d just learned to roller skate, and he wasn’t too keen on learning to ice skate as well. His ass was probably bruised from falling already.

Little Rickon ran up being Arya, letting Shaggydog into the roller rink. Shaggydog was not allowed in the roller rink, but Rickon didn’t care. “Yeah, come out!” He shouted.

Jon came to a halt at the barrier, looking contemplative. Robb stopped next to him. "Mrs. Stark is ice skating, right?" Jon murmured to him. Robb nodded. Jon sighed and steeled himself. "Okay. I'll be right out, Arya," he said, and he maneuvered himself to the seats, swapping out his roller blades for ice skates. Robb rejoined Theon, falling back to match his pace with his.

Shaggydog apparently did not care to go back outside, and trotted out after Robb and Theon, much to Rickon’s delight. Shaggydog did not care for the rules of the rink, as he could not read them. His nails clicked against the smooth flooring and Rickon ran out after him, thankfully wearing snow boots and not ice skates.

“Shaggy, Rickon!” Theon exclaimed, turning around to see the six year old and the massive black dog following after him.

“He wants to skate!” Rickon said simply.

Robb seized Shaggydog by the collar and crouched down to eye level with Rickon. "Rickon, he's going to get in trouble," he said, always the voice of reason. "If Shaggy gets in trouble, all the doggies will be sent home and they won't be able to come anymore. How would that make you feel?"

Rickon looked up at Robb, bright blue eyes wide, lower lip trembling as he listened to his big brother. “I- I don’t want Shaggy in trouble,” he sniffled, “That would make me s-sad.”

“Good job, Robb.” Theon mumbled under his breath.

"Then let's take Shaggy back outside, okay? Then he won't get in trouble." Robb stood up, ruffling Rickon's hair, and took his hand. "I'll be right back," he told Theon, "unless you wanted to come outside too."

“I’ll stay here.” Theon shrugged.

“No!” Rickon held Robb’s hand tightly, other hand clenched in Shaggy’s fur, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked up at Theon. “Come outside!”

"That's up to Theon, buddy. He doesn't want to," Robb said gently. "Don't force him."

Theon looked at Rickon, feeling immense guilt as those big blue eyes stared up at him, and huffed out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Robb, do we have to change back into our boots?”

"Yeah," he said apologetically. "Sorry, Thee. Skating would be a lot harder if they were wet." As they went to the seats to change into boots, Robb whispered to Theon, "Thank you. You didn't have to."

Theon just shrugged. “I can’t say no to the little dude.” He glanced back at the rink to where Ned was guiding Bran around in his wheelchair. He stood up once the boots were on, handing the skates back to the front desk and heading outside.

Jon was already on the ice rink, skating circles around Sansa, a wild look of excitement on his face, cheeks flushed with the cold. Nymeria, Ghost, and Arya were romping through the snow, while Summer and Grey Wind bolted over to the group of them coming outside. Summer went right for Shaggydog, while Grey Wind barreled into Robb's legs, knocking him flat onto his back and accidentally pulling Theon with him.

“Drowned fuck- Grey Wind!” Theon exclaimed, not thrilled to be knocked on his ass again- and this time in the snow. He got up as quickly as he could, brushing the snow off his pants. Rickon giggled happily, taking hold of Shaggydog once again.

"Go play, buddy," Robb said, gesturing towards the expanse of snow near where Catelyn sat on a bench, observing. He rolled over in the snow, arms around Grey Wind, and the dog rolled with him, squirming joyfully and licking his face.

Theon wandered a bit in search of Ghost, his newfound friend. For some reason the dog suddenly liked him after he fucked Jon—got fucked by Jon—as if he knew. It made Theon a little suspicious but he didn’t mind. He found the wolf dog near the fence, watching him warily, but he didn’t run off or growl when Theon pet him. He considered that a win.

Ghost hunkered down in the snow, blending in perfectly, but let Theon pet him to his hearts content. He tolerated pets to this extent from very few people, namely his master, Ygritte, Arya, and Rickon... and Theon, now, since he smelled of his master. He licked Theon's hand as it stroked down around his muzzle and pushed his nose into him.

“Good boy,” Theon praised, smiling brightly. “You’re such a good boy, yes you are. Such a good little fluffy boy.” Ghost grumbled in clear disagreement, tossing his massive head but allowing Theon to continue. As high of an opinion Ghost had of himself, Theon's pats felt good.

Robb laced on his skates and joined Jon on the ice, and maybe he was showing off a bit for Theon, but it didn't really matter either way.

“Such a good boy,” Theon cooed, turning to look at the ice while still petting Ghost. He watched as the Stark children skated, mostly watching Robb and Jon. Jon was fast, but Robb was quite obviously being a show off. Theon whistled at him with a crooked grin on his face.

Arya, having stopped running around in order to catch her breath, grew an evil grin. She bent down and gathered up a fistful of snow, packing it into a tight snowball, and she launched it at Robb, hitting him square in the face. As Jon zoomed by, laughing at Robb, she pegged him too.

Theon stood up, leaving Ghost to go stand by the edge of the rink. “Can’t stay on your feet, boys?” He called out with a teasing smile on his face.

Arya spun around and threw a snowball at Theon too. It exploded in his face with a _pumf_. Ghost glanced up at him, amused, only to receive a snowball to the side.

“Hey!” Theon exclaimed, quickly forming a snowball of his own and throwing it at Arya with stunning accuracy, hitting her on the side of her head.

She squeaked in surprise as the cold snow fell down her neck and moved to retaliate. Robb was skating over to where she stood, flanked by Jon, and the both of them had snowballs. Sansa had retreated to the other side of the ice, by Catelyn, seeking refuge with Lady.

Theon felt something wrap around his legs and looked down to see Rickon hiding behind him and hugging his legs to hide from to snow. He resigned himself to standing in the same spot and not running after the others to try and throw more snowballs at them. “Hey there, little dude.”

“I don’t want Ary to hit me.” Rickon looked back up at him. “Shh!”

Ghost rose to his feet and stood protectively in front of Theon's legs, and Rickon, effectively blocking him from any snow coming their way, and freeing Theon to move if he wished. The doors to the roller rink opened and shut, with Ned and Bran appearing outside. They observed the scene, Arya running around the ice rink pelting Jon and Robb with snowballs while they skated in circles, desperately dodging.

Theon slipped away from the two once Rickon let go, forming a snowball in each hand and creeping slowly toward the rink, waiting for Robb to skate past before pelting him with the snowballs.

"Friendly fire!" Robb cried indignantly. He chucked one of his load at Theon, hitting him square in the chest, and Jon did the same as he spiraled past.

Ned wheeled Bran over as carefully as he could, helping the boy gather up snow, and sneaking him just close enough to hail the others with a shower of snowballs. Theon yelped as he was hit, dodging the snowballs from Bran before tackling Robb into a snowbank on the side of the rink.

Robb gasped as they sank into the chilly depths of the bank, his arms instinctively wrapping around Theon. He looked up at him, hair a mess of curls and snow flecked over his face. He grinned.

"Hey there, traitor."

“Hey, pretty boy,” Theon teased back, gazing into Robb’s pretty blue eyes as he leaned over him. “I saw you showing off out there.”

"Yeah?" Robb breathed. "Is that what you were whistling for? I thought you were calling a dog," he joked. He released Theon and trailed his hands over his shoulders. He took Theon's scarf in his hands and wound it tighter, covering up the exposed skin of his throat. "There," he said softly.

“We’re gonna get cold, laying in the snow.” Theon’s voice was husky and he leaned in closer. “You’ve got some snow on your face. Your lips. Wouldn’t want them to get cold.” He leaned down even closer and suddenly kissed Robb, lips a bit cold and chapped but warmer than the snow and cold air around them.

Robb's eyes widened with surprise, then slipped shut as he leaned up into the kiss. His hands tightened their grip on the scarf, pulling Theon closer so their chests bumped together. Theon gasped softly but happily continued kissing him, eyes closed, body tingling with warmth until suddenly there was a mound of snow smacking into the back of his head and a weight landing on his back.

“What’re you doing?” Arya grinned mischievously down at them, sitting atop Theon’s back.

"We're talking," Robb said shortly. "Can't you see that?" Nymeria's face loomed over Arya's shoulder, silently judging them.

“It looks like you’re kissing. Theon and Robb sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Arya began to sing, stopping when Theon rolled over, resulting in her falling into the snow next to them.

“Shh!” he commanded. “You’re being ridiculous. We weren’t kissing.”

"Why would we have been kissing?" Robb scoffed, cheeks pink. "Theon's right, you're being ridiculous." He pushed Arya down into the snowbank and struggled to his feet, pulling Theon up after him. "You must be tired from all the running around."

“You were kissing, I saw it! I saw it! Jon, they were kissing!” Arya cackled, jumping back up and hurrying over to her half-brother.

“We were not!” Theon insisted, his own face quickly flushing red. “Drowned God, Arya! Stop that!”

"Don't lie, Arya! Nobody believes you," Sansa called, rolling her eyes.

"Arya..." Ned said warningly. Whether she was serious or not— whether she was right or not, the boys were clearly upset.

Jon raised an eyebrow and Theon shot him a dirty look, mouthing “Don’t say shit,” to him. The bastard just shrugged and continued skating.

“Fine,” Arya huffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t believe me. But I know! I know!” She picked up a handful of snow, throwing it at Robb before dashing off once again. Robb shuffled off after her, returning to the ice and falling in behind Jon as he lapped the rink. He didn't look back at Theon, maybe out of embarrassment, or maybe out of shame. Ned put a hand on Theon's shoulder, looking at him questioningly.

"Are you all right, Theon?" Ned asked. "If you're having any problems with anything, let me know, okay? I mean it."

“I mean, my mom doesn’t recognize I exist and my dad and sister hate me, but other than that I’m doing pretty good,” Theon joked, but the smile dissipated when he saw Ned was unamused. “Okay, sorry. I’m fine, really, I’ve been doing good. Thank you, Mr. Stark- Ned. It’s good to know I can talk to you.”

"Of course," he said, squeezing his shoulder once before striding away after Bran, who was rolling his chair through snowdrifts after a frolicking Summer. Ned's face remained a picture of worry, however. Too much was happening with Theon lately— firstly, getting threatened and thrown out by his own father; next, whatever had happened with the Bolton boy; now, if Arya was to be trusted, a brewing relationship between his boy and Theon? Ned wasn't necessarily opposed. He liked Theon, and he brought out a playful side in Robb that Ned hadn't seen in years. He just feared that the boy was overwhelming himself.

Theon went back to sit on one of the outdoor benches, wondering a bit what had inspired Ned to ask him how he was doing. Probably just normal parental worry, he figured, it probably came along with having another kid in the house. He watched the Stark kids fondly as they skated and played in the snow, quietly wishing he could’ve had a family like theirs, parents who loved and cared for all their children, who encouraged and worried about them. He sighed softly, gaze following Robb as he skated around.

"Why aren't you joining them?" Sansa had approached without him noticing her, and now she sat next to him, crossing her legs daintily. "This seems like it would be right up your alley." They were chasing each other around again, but this time Jon and Robb were competing, apparently trying to see who could skate the wildest patterns the fastest.

Theon startled when she first spoke, very quickly relaxing as he turned his head and saw her. He laughed softly and shrugged. “I don’t know how to skate. I already fell on my ass a ton learning how to use the ones with wheels, there’s no way I’m learning the ones with blades today, too.” He paused. “What about you? Don’t want to get involved in the chaos?”

"I don't find it fun to act like a fool," Sansa said huffily. "It was peaceful out here, before my brothers came out and turned it into a competition. Besides, Lady doesn't like to get mixed up in mayhem." She stroked her dog's head as Lady lay it in her lap. By far the slightest of the lot, Lady was wearing a lilac colored collar of a ribbon-like material today, with a delicate bow attached by the buckle.

“She truly fits her name. A pretty little lady.” Theon said with a smile, looking toward the dog. He reached over to pet Lady as well, surprised at how soft she was. “Just like her owner.” He meant it as a compliment. Sansa had always been gentle and polite, although she came off as rather pompous sometimes, and he had to admire her manners.

Sansa's cheeks colored. "Thank you," she said, somewhat shyly. "She's a good girl. Aren't you, my Lady?" she asked in that special baby voice, affectionately ruffling Lady's fur. The dog licked at her hands, brown eyes staring up at her lovingly. "Oh, Theon, you've got to get a dog!"

Theon laughed, smiling crookedly at Sansa. “I wish. Maybe one day, when I’m older and have a job and a house or something. At least living with you there’s six of these dudes around the house. Or, not all dudes, this girl here is a Lady.” He reached over to scratch behind her ears.

"Nymeria, too," Sansa pointed out. The dog in question, though, was currently wrestling about with Grey Wind, throwing up snow as they thrashed, and Sansa looked sheepish. "Well, sort of." She trailed her gaze along to her father, who was zooming Bran along through the snow with Summer bounding after them, much to his wild amusement. She frowned contemplatively, her breath rising in plumes of white before her as she sighed. "In any case, I think you should get one. You're a Stark now, after all."

Theon’s cheeks went red at that and he felt his heart swell in his chest. “I’d like to think so. That would make you like my little sister then, huh?” He reached out and playfully patted her on the shoulder, looking back out at the kids. He loved the Starks. They were all running and laughing and smiling, even Ned and Catelyn and Bran in his wheelchair. Sansa’s words warmed his heart, and as he looked out on the happy scene before him, he forgot about the things weighing him down. His father, his sister, his mother. Looking at the happy scene in front of him, it felt as if everything was going well for once.

He hoped it’d stay that way.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite characters is introduced this chap (-: -m

They wouldn't talk about the kiss, but Robb thought about it every time he walked past the little bundle of mistletoe hanging in the archway to the family room. The Christmas tree was lit with their usual white lights, and silver baubles hung from its branches. A couple of days before Christmas, Rickon had scared them all witless by jumping out from under the tree, loudly announcing that he was the only gift they could ever need, and ever since he had been laying beside it with Shaggydog, grinning mischievously up at anybody who dared walk by.

It had been only been two days since they kissed, but they hadn't talked about it, and Robb didn't think they ever would. Theon had seemingly decreed it 'business-as-usual', and more than once he had caught him texting Ros. Whatever. Robb didn't mind, really. Theon was just his friend, his best friend, and if they happened to have kissed, to have said things that just-friends would never say to each other, then what of it?

Theon never really cared for Christmas. They’d never really celebrated it in the Greyjoy household- at least, not since his brothers had died. They never even set up a tree any Decembers after that, and they certainly hadn’t enjoyed family dinners or exchanged gifts. He didn’t much care for Christmas Eve, either. As a kid, he always hated hearing talk from other kids about waiting for Santa Claus. He knew Santa wasn’t real, and he knew no one was going to be leaving gifts for him or Yara. The Starks were much different. All of them seemed cheerful- even Jon. Arya had put a Santa hat on Nymeria, and the wolf dog had kept it on somehow.

He lounged on the couch, phone in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. Catelyn had made plenty enough for everyone, and he appreciated the warm drink in his hand. He felt so relaxed, as if he was melting into the couch, surrounded by warmth and laughter and soft lighting. He never cared for Christmas, no, but he’d be happy to watch the Stark family celebrate the next morning. Robb was sat next to Theon, warm and happy with a mug of cocoa in his hands, leaning into Theon's side. Grey Wind lay on the floor at their feet, snoozing, and Ghost was stalking about wearing an obnoxious Christmas bell collar that Jon had wrestled onto him; the dog moved stiffly so the bells hardly jingled, but every time they did he growled ferociously at them, and they all got a kick out of it.

"What are you thinking about?" Robb asked curiously, talking in the pensive look on his friend's face.

Theon took a sip of the hot chocolate and gave a small shrug. “Not much. I haven’t celebrated Christmas in, like, ten years.” He snickered as Ghost walked past, bells jingling, earning an affronted and betrayed look from the wolf dog.

"You haven't had a Stark Christmas yet," Robb said, nudging him playfully. "You'll be in spirit in no time, trust me. Just wait until tomorrow."

“It’ll be nice to watch the kids open their gifts.” Theon tilted his head to look over at Robb, a relaxed smile on his lips. “And the dogs, I hope.” He didn’t expect anything for himself, it wasn’t like his own family ever got him anything.

"And you?" Robb prompted, grinning back at him. "Aren't you excited for your own presents?"

“My what?” Theon furrowed his brows, looking genuinely confused. “I mean, yeah, I’m excited for you guys to open the stuff I got you.”

"No, I mean—" Robb sighed, but he was more so upset with Theon's family for doing this to his friend. "Presents, for you. From us."

“What?” Theon said, still looking confused, and then surprised. “Wait, you— huh? Why?” His own family never got him anything, so he certainly didn’t expect the Starks to. It wasn’t like him and Robb ever exchanged gifts before- probably because Robb knew he didn’t like Christmas. “I’m not— what?”

"You're family, Thee. Of course we'd get you something." Robb gave him a side hug, despite the awkward position.

Theon swallowed hard, his heart twisting a bit in his chest. “I– I guess that’s okay, cuz I got all you guys stuff. Well– not your parents, but the kids and you and Jon.” He awkwardly side-hugged back, making sure not to spill the hot chocolate. His phone buzzed in his lap from an incoming text, the name ‘Ros’ flashing across the screen, but he ignored it.

"When are you going to see her?" Robb asked, nodding towards the phone. "You guys were, uh, close before she moved."

“Close? Robb, man, she was my girlfriend.” Theon shrugged. “I already saw her the other day, I don’t know if I am going to end up seeing her again. She’s not back for super long. It would be nice to hang out again, though. I don’t know. We’ll see.”

"You should give it a shot. It would be good for you to at least get a friend back," Robb said reasonably. He had liked Ros; she was fun to be around, and she cared deeply for Theon. It would be good for him to have someone like her in his life again.

“I mean, we’re still friends. Just not as close, obviously.” He laughed, finishing off his hot chocolate and placing the empty mug on the floor.

Grey Wind immediately put his nose in the mug, sniffing for remnants and wagging his tail joyfully.

“Grey Wind, no!” Theon exclaimed, snatching the mug away rather dramatically and, in his effort to pick it up, accidentally flung it backwards across the room where it hit the wall and shattered.

"Theon!" Robb gasped. Ned was entering the room as Theon threw the mug, and he stopped in the archway to look at them both.

“Fuck!” Theon turned to look at the mess. “Oh fuck, I didn’t mean to. Sorry Ned.” His face flushed as he scrambled to his feet. “Uh- where do you keep the broom?”

"In the hallway closet," Ned said, and he turned away to go fetch some paper towels from the kitchen. Ghost sidled up alongside Theon, bells jingling softly, and looked up at him, almost amused, as if to say ‘who’s laughing now, bitch?’ Robb leaned down and took the two dogs by their collars so they wouldn't get into the mess of broken ceramic. 

Theon shot Ghost a dirty look before going to get the broom and dustpan, hurrying back to the living room to sweep up the shards. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated when Ned returned, his face flushed red.

"Don't worry about it," Ned said kindly, helping him clean up. "If I got angry every time one of my kids broke something, they would have been taken away a long time ago."

Theon gave him a grateful look once they finished cleaning it, carrying the dustpan to the kitchen garbage to empty it. He then headed back to the living room and flopped onto the couch next to Robb. “No more ceramic mugs for me,” he announced.

"We'll get you one of those plastic sippy cups with the rubber straw," Robb promised, biting back laughter.

Theon shot him a dirty look, but a smile was playing on his lips. “Wow, thanks," he responded, sarcasm dripping from each word. “I would love that.”

"Great. Now I know what to get you for Christmas!" said Robb with mock excitement.

“If I have to suck out of that straw, you’re never getting me to suck anything else.” Theon grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Robb to hear.

"Yeah? Are you sure about that?" Robb murmured. From down the hall, they could hear Sansa arguing loudly with Rickon, who didn't seem to want to go to bed.

“Do you really want to risk it?” Theon raised an eyebrow, crooked smirk growing on his lips.

Robb studied him, gaze trailing hot over Theon's face, to his lips, and back to look into his eyes. "No," he said. "I don't."

Theon would laugh, but he was entranced by the way Robb was looking at him. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one else was in the room, heat pooling in his gut as he leaned forward, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Robb’s.

Grey Wind lifted his head and stared at them in surprise, while Ghost looked on judgementally. Robb moaned in surprise, parting his lips for more. His eyes slid shut and he leaned in, hand on Theon's thigh. Theon scooted closer, one hand reaching around to tangle his fingers in Robb’s hair, brushing his tongue over Robb’s bottom lip as they kissed. They deepened the kiss and Robb groaned again as Theon nipped at his lip. The next second, they were leaping apart at the sound of a scream.

"Oh my gods!" Arya stood in the archway, staring at them in amazement. "You-"

“Drowned fuck, Arya!” Theon half-shouted. “You didn’t see anything! Nothing! Do you have to keep interrupting?”

"I think I saw a lot, actually," she said with an evil grin. "And you guys called me a liar."

Robb leaned back against the couch with a groan of despair. "Ary, please."

“I’m gonna keep calling you a liar if you tell anyone," Theon retorted, glaring at her.

"I know," she said uncaringly, shrugging. "But we all know the truth."

“You—” He pointed at her. “Little lady, you know nothing. And neither does anyone else. Got it?”

"Sure, on one condition."

"What's that?" Robb asked warily.

"Don't keep me up tonight," she teased.

“Arya!” Theon exclaimed, staring in shock at the eleven year old. “We aren’t– we don’t– hey! That’s not appropriate!”

"Whatever you say," she sang, strolling out of sight, presumably to bed.

Robb looked over at Theon and sighed, trying not to stare at his kiss-bruised lips. "We should go to bed too. It's late."

“I guess so.” Theon stood up, grinning down at him. “Well. I’ll see you on Christmas.” He leaned over to give Robb a teasing kiss on the cheek before walking out of the room and heading up to bed.

Robb remained on the couch for a few minutes, thinking. Grey Wind whined, nosing at his hand, and Robb took his head into his lap and stroked his ears.

"What am I doing, buddy?" he whispered. With another sigh, he stood and the pair of them trailed off to bed.

* * *

Theon was woken from his peaceful rest by a six year old jumping on top of him in bed.

“Wake up! Wake up! It’s Christmas!” Rickon exclaimed, literally jumping on the bed on top of him. “You’re the last one! Get up! Downstairs! Wake up!” His face was flushed bright pink with joy, and Theon couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at the little guy.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get up, just stop jumping,” Theon groaned, waiting for Rickon to get off the bed before he pulled himself from under the blankets and onto his feet. He was wearing a baggy pair of sweatpants and one of his stupid squid shirts. Rickon bounded out of the room and toward the stairs and Theon followed him, surprised to find that all the Starks actually were in the living room already, seeing as the clock said it was four in the morning.

Sansa was slumped on the floor, yawning, face pressed into the thicker fur around Lady's neck. Lady was wearing a pretty red garland around her neck and a gaudy Christmas sweater— but so was Sansa, and the other dogs... and the rest of the Starks. They were all wearing Christmas sweaters, different from each other but matching with their respective dogs. Ned and Catelyn matched each other.

"Merry Christmas, Theon," Robb said warmly, smiling up at him from where he sat on the floor with Grey Wind, leaning back against the edge of the couch.

Theon didn’t say anything at first, but he felt out of place wearing his ‘Are You Squidding Me’ shirt when all of the Starks were wearing nice Christmas sweaters. “Merry Christmas,” Theon replied, sitting down next to him, feeling just as tired as Sansa looked.

“Can we get our stockings?” Rickon asked, practically bouncing up and down as he looked at the mantle of the fireplace.

"Of course, sweetie," Catelyn said. "Jon, would you?"

Jon, who was sitting closest to where the stocking hung on the mantle, looked up in shock at being addressed. "Of– of course, Mrs. Stark." He reached up and detached the stockings, handing them out in order of youngest to oldest. All of the dogs had miniature stockings stuffed full of their favorite treats, and even Theon had a stocking, thought it wasn't yet embroidered with his name like the others.

Theon stared down in surprise at his stocking when Jon handed it to him. Robb had said he’d be getting presents, but it was still a bit of surprise. He looked around, seeing everyone dump them out onto their laps, and he did the same. There was a bunch of candy in it, and a tiny pink dog collar fell out onto his lap. A small matching pink leash fell out as well. He was confused. Did the Starks want him to walk their dogs? These weren’t even big enough for the Stark dogs. “Thanks,” he said with a bit of a confused smile, looking over at Ned and Catelyn.

“Don’t thank us, dear, it’s from Santa,” Catelyn said, smiling. Ned waited until Theon had turned his attention to Arya, who was excitedly handing out presents from under the tree before he stood and left the room, unnoticed.

"This one's for you!" Arya announced, thrusting a huge box at Robb. "And this one is yours!" She pushed another box towards Sansa, then tossed one towards Bran, who caught it easily. "Oh! Here's one for you!" She said, shoving a box towards Theon.

Theon awkwardly started unwrapping it once the others did, opening the flaps of the large back and looking in to see a single limp noodle. He stared at it for a minute. “Um... thanks?” He tried to look grateful. “I got you guys stuff too, it’s in my room, I should go get it, I didn’t even think about it.” He stood up.

"No, wait!" She rolled her eyes. "Here." She handed him the real present.

"She always gets everybody a fake gift first," Robb explained. "Except for Rickon. He wouldn't like it."

“I gotta get yours, I’ll be back super quick.” Theon promised, placing the real gift from Arya down on the couch before practically sprinting up to stairs. He came back down with a bunch of lumpily wrapped presents in his arms, fumbling to hand one to each of the kids.

Rickon was the first to rip open his gift from Theon, gasping in delight to see the little black plush dog with its own mini collar that read ‘Shaggydog.’ “It’s Shaggy!” Rickon exclaimed, holding it up.

"Lady!" Sansa gasped, hugging the little dog to her chest. "Thank you!"

"Thank you, Theon!" said Bran, holding the stuffed Summer out for the real Summer to sniff. Arya was comparing the stuffed Nymeria to real Nymeria, marvelling over the intricate similarities. Robb was smiling down at his little plush Grey Wind, and Jon... Jon was looking at a plain white T-shirt that said "I <3 my chode" on it in bright red lettering.

"Thanks," he said dryly.

Theon had almost forgotten what he’d gotten Jon. Almost. At the sight of the shirt, he lost his mind, laughing like an idiot. “Do you like it? I ordered it special, just for you.”

"Yeahhh, I love it." Jon went to put the shirt aside, but Sansa's hand on his arm stopped him.

Through a quivering smile, she said, "There's something underneath it." Jon lifted the shirt and found a little plush Ghost, in his opinion the cutest of the plushies.

"Oh! Th-Thank you!" Jon said, amazed.

"I hope you got yourself one of those," Ned said, re-entering the room, holding something behind his back.

“What?” Theon looked over at Ned in confusion. “What do you mean? What would I get, another Grey Wind?”

Rather than answer, Ned brought forth a squirming Pomeranian, little more than a puppy, and released her. She scampered around, confused, before running straight towards Theon.

Theon went dead silent, freezing, and then his face lit up. “Drowned God– oh God.” He slid from the couch onto the floor, kneeling and holding out his arms as the puppy ran up to him. “Oh, you’re a pretty girl, aren’t you. Such a pretty little girl. Drowned– is she mine?” He looked up at Ned, feeling tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. The puppy was so soft, dark browns mixed with pale grays and golds, and she was so tiny in his arms.

"All yours," Ned promised. Sansa was beaming from her seat on the floor. Catelyn looked on affectionately; the gift of the leash and collar would make sense now, she hoped.

"What are you gonna name her?" Arya demanded, sitting up to see better, the stuffed Nymeria still clutched in her hands.

“I love her.” He was practically crying, holding her to his chest, smiling brightly and laughing as she tried to lick his face. “Drowned God, I love her so much.” He wasn’t sure what to name her just yet, he was too enamored by how fluffy and gentle and small she was.

"The people at the shelter said they found her on the street last week, couldn't believe how friendly she was," Ned informed him, sitting back down beside Catelyn.

"Arya, hand him that now, will you?" Catelyn asked, and Arya obliged, handing the overwhelmed Theon a flat box with a sticker that said 'to Theon, love Catelyn'. There were Christmas puppies on the wrapping paper.

Theon held the box on his lap beneath the puppy, kissing the top of her fluffy little head. “She’s such a little princess. A queen. Queen. Queenie!” He exclaimed, smiling at the pup. “Do you like that girl? Queenie?” The little dog yipped and licked the tears off his cheeks, much to his delight. He put her down, albeit a bit reluctantly, to unwrap the gift from Catelyn. He beamed even brighter when he saw it was two Christmas sweaters, matching ones for him and Queenie. “Thank you.”

"Merry Christmas, Theon," Catelyn said.

"Jon, what's that?" Arya said suddenly, pointing to a long and thin package nestled behind the rest of the presents. The tag on it read 'to Arya, from Jon'.

"Open it up and find out," he said invitingly. Arya seized it with a grin, tearing off the wrapping paper and opening up the box. Inside was a gleaming weapon, a professional grade fencing sword.

Theon threw the sweater on over his shirt and then struggled to get Queenie in hers, looking up once he’d succeeded. He smiled wide at seeing Arya looking excitedly at the sword. “Jon, you just dug all of our graves.” he joked.

"Mister Syrio is gonna be so proud!" Arya cried. "This is so cool! Thank you, Jon!" It was a testament to exactly how excited she was that she lunged forward and wrapped her arms tight around Jon, thankfully leaving the sword in the box. "I'm gonna call it Needle! Every great sword has a name."

Even Sansa had to smile at that, and Jon looked absolutely thrilled that his sister had enjoyed the gift so much. Theon also smiled, but was too occupied with Queenie to care much. He’d put her little pink collar on her and she was now trying to get up onto the couch behind him.

Ghost nosed at Queenie, pushing her up onto the couch behind Theon, and curling back up on the floor next to Jon, lest his collar jingle again. Robb stretched out his hand and handed Theon a large box.

"Here, from me," he said. Behind him, Arya was resuming her self-assigned duties of distributing presents.

Theon tore his gaze away from his pup for a minute to open Robb’s gift, a loud, genuine laugh bursting from his lungs when he pulled out the squid onesie. “Drowned God, Robb, really?” He laughed, holding it in his lap as he pulled out the other gift. It was a black leather-bound photo album with gold detail, and he opened it up to find pictures of him and the Starks. “Oh," he said quietly, heart swelling in his chest. “Thank you.”

"Merry Christmas," Robb said simply. The next second, Arya chucked a soft package at Theon, his gift from Sansa, who had crocheted scarves for everybody in their favorite colors. As the Stark kids and Theon moved on to opening their gifts from Jon (unfortunately, he hadn't gotten everybody specially commissioned fencing swords), Ned was discreetly leaving the room again.

His phone had rung six times while he wasn't paying attention to it, it having been on silent, and while that wasn't exactly abnormal for somebody in his position, it was the number that was calling him that drew his worry. He caught the call as it came through a seventh time, and the news was alarming. He hung up the call with shaking hands, his thoughts running a mile a minute. How could this have happened?

"Catelyn," he called. "Can you come in here, please?"

Catelyn heard the worry in his voice and quickly got to her feet, making sure the kids were all happy and occupied before she left to meet Ned in the other room.

“What’s wrong, my love?” She placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"I've just had a call," Ned said faintly, as though still coming to terms with it. He breathed in deeply and let it out slow.

“What was it?” Catelyn’s brows furrowed, wrinkles forming on her face. “Ned, darling, you’ve got me worried.”

"It was Jon Arryn, he said there was an accident this morning, a hunting accident-" Ned paused, gathering himself. "Robert Baratheon is dead."


	16. Chapter 16

It was two days after Christmas, and Theon was the happiest he’d been in a while. He was outside with all the Stark children in the backyard, watching as the six large dogs ran through the snow and his own little puppy tried to run after them. Queenie seemed to be rather fond of Ghost out of all the wolf dogs, and kept trying to play with him. He didn’t growl at her or anything, but he did seem a bit annoyed when she refused to leave him alone. Theon found it adorable, smile bright and wide across his face.

“She’s perfect.” He turned to smile at Robb, Robb, who was already looking at him with a smile on his face, those blue eyes so beautiful, auburn curls looking almost red in the sun.

"I'm glad you like her. Dad was a little hesitant to get you such a small dog, but Sansa insisted," Robb told him. He was wearing the scarf Sansa had made him, a comfy thing made of soft black and gray yarn, and was crouched down in the snow, gathering up fistfuls of snow to make snowballs. Rather than pelting each other, however, the Starks were throwing them as far as they could for the dogs to chase (it was very funny to watch the dogs' utter confusion as the snowballs burst upon impact with the ground and disappeared). Theon's little puppy was barely taller than the thick snowfall, especially with the additional inch or two that had accumulated overnight, but she was leaping through the snow, happy-go-lucky.

“Queenie!” Theon called, laughing at the way she was bouncing around. “Queenie, girl, c’mere!” The little pup bounded over and Theon scooped her up in his arms, face lighting up with glee as the Pomeranian began licking all over his face. “Robb, look at her! Look at- ah! Queenie! Don’t lick my mouth, yuck!” he scolded, but he didn’t look or sound mad at all as he planted a kiss on the top of her soft, fuzzy head.

"She is definitely perfect for you," Robb said cordially, reaching up to stroke her fluff.

Sansa smiled fondly at the sight of Theon and his puppy. She was proud- she’d helped pick Queenie out. Her own dog, Lady, was nuzzling at her hand and looking toward the road. “What’s wrong girl? Wanna go for a walk?”

As Sansa and Lady began to stroll off towards the woods, Arya bolted after them, Nymeria hot on her heels. "Where are you guys headed?" she asked, panting. "Can we come?"

“Must you?” Sansa sighed, but didn’t say no, walking with Lady down the yard as Arya and Nymeria followed. She gave one last glimpse to the backyard, seeing her siblings and their dogs all happy, and then continued walking.

Nymeria trotted ahead, domineering their walk, but Lady was content to let her take the reigns. She was more of a "go with the flow" kind of dog, whereas Nymeria saw herself as the leader of their little pack, sheerly due to her immense size. Arya tagged along rather peacefully, happy for once to just walk with her sister. It was a good day, a lazy day for sure, and she was content. Their father was at work, preparing for his unscheduled promotion, and their mother was inside, cooking up lunch.

Sansa kept a hand on Lady’s back, petting her gently as they walked. She felt relaxed outside in the snow, and happy for the peace and quiet. She hadn’t expected it with Arya tagging along, but she sure wasn’t about to complain.

Overhead in the tree branches, a fat squirrel was leaping along, disturbing a cardinal, which flew out in front of them in a rush of color. Nymeria barked shortly and bounded after it, tail wagging with the excitement of the hunt. The bird flew up out of reach soon enough, however, and she crashed through the bushes, sniffing furiously in search of it, before returning to the group, looking dejected.

"Maybe next time, girl," Arya said, amused.

“Please, tell Nymeria not to make a scene. I’m trying to enjoy the peace and quiet.” Sansa sighed. Nymeria's nose was to the ground, however, and she paced along, tracing some scent. She raised her head and stared out, deep into the forest. After a split second, she tore off though the trees.

"Nymeria!" Arya shouted, dashing after her. Nymeria's tail was a waving beacon and the dog's nose was to the ground again as she ran, zigzagging here and there, before she lifted her head and zoomed off, disappearing into a cluster of snowy brambles. Arya picked her way through them, only half aware of Sansa stomping after her, cursing up a storm.

"Nymeria?" Arya called nervously. She couldn't see her dog anymore, nor hear her, and she was experiencing an eerie feeling, tingles creeping up her spine. Suddenly, there was frenzy of barks from up ahead, and Arya nearly tripped over herself as she rushed forward. Her mitten snagged on a bramble and she sliced her finger, but she kept running, and Nymeria kept barking.

She burst forth into a sort of clearing, free of bushes and brambles. Nymeria was halted several feet in front of her, no longer barking but growling instead, a deep guttural growl, and her hackles were raised all down her back.

"What's the matter, girl?" Arya asked, moving towards her and stretching out a comforting hand. As the words left her mouth, she learned what; she laid eyes on the most horrifying scene she had ever or would ever encounter.

First, she saw the blood. There were thick splotches of blood staining the snow all the way from where Nymeria had stopped, to the base of the trees several yards away. In the center of it all was a body, dressed in a once-fine suit now riddled with tatters and tears. The body didn't have a head, Arya realized numbly. The body didn't have a head.

Only it did. Arya took a step towards the body, eyes round with terrified fascination, trepidation swimming in her gut. Nymeria stood back, still growling. Arya looked around slowly, because the head had to be around somewhere, and immediately wished she didn't, because to her left, impaled upon a spike between two trees, was the head, and Arya fell to her knees. She fell to her knees, and she screamed.

“Arya, where are you-“ Sansa ran into the clearing behind her and saw the scene, the blood and the body and the head. Lady stopped beside her as she let out a horrible, ugly, anguished scream, stumbling backwards.

It was Ned. It was their father. The corpse was the man who’d loved and raised them and Sansa felt sick. She almost fell over as she screamed again, screams turning into sobs.

“Dad!” she screamed, stumbling toward the body. She fell to her knees next to it, and then she puked, turning her head to the side and vomiting into the snow.

In the Stark’s backyard, Theon froze as he heard distant screaming. He turned to Robb and Jon with wide eyes. “Was that Sansa and Arya?”

Before Robb could answer, there was a streak of white and Ghost was pelting off into the forest, followed closely by Grey Wind. Summer and Shaggydog looked anxiously towards where their brothers had gone, but stayed protectively at Bran and Rickon's sides. He swallowed hard and ran to Bran and Rickon, as Jon headed off after the dogs.

"I need you guys to do something, okay?" They nodded mutely. "I need you both go inside and stay there. Send mommy out. Just take Shaggy and Summer and don't come back outside."

Theon didn’t like the idea of leaving Bran and Rickon alone. Queenie was squirming in his arms and barking, and dread was pooling in his gut. “Robb, I’m gonna stay back with them. I know they have the dogs, but...” He trailed off. If something had happened to Sansa and Arya, he didn’t want anything to happen to Bran and Rickon as well. When Robb nodded, he ran inside after the kids.

Catelyn came quickly outside, looking pale as she fumbled to zip up her coat. “What’s wrong? The boys said something about screaming?”

The distant screaming had faded, and it was partly due to Sansa sobbing as she dialed the emergency number on her phone, sobbing and begging for the cops to come.

"The girls went for a walk, they started screaming— the dogs ran this way!" Robb ran off in that direction, hearing his mother following after him. Jon had stalled at the edge of the forest, peering in after the dogs, and he turned back to wave Robb onward, face tense and anxious.

“Robb, Jon!” Catelyn called, dashing after them. “Slow down, and stay behind me.” She saw Robb go to open his mouth to argue, but she gave him a look that shut him down. If something serious happened, she didn’t want the boys to get hurt. She was walking at a hurried place, almost running until she began to hear sobs. They were quiet, but grew louder as she started running into the woods, following footprints in the snow from the girls and the dogs. She reached the clearing before either of the boys and turned around as quickly as she could, arms out to block them. “Both of you, go home now. Go back home, make sure the boys and Theon are okay. Do not come any closer.”

They did so reluctantly and with many glances back. Ghost and Grey Wind both trailed after their owners. Catelyn had seen her girls sobbing, Sansa clutching her phone, and she saw the body in the clearing. When she turned back around, all she could look at was the head. Her husband’s head, the man she’d loved for so long, the father of all her children. She bit back a cry of her own and went to help her girls.

Arya latched on to her mother's side, sobbing into her shirt. "Daddy— daddy's..." she babbled. "He's— why?"

Catelyn wrapped her arms around her young daughter, clutching her tightly as she fought back tears of their own. “I don’t know, Ary, my sweet girl,” she managed shakily. “Sansa, you called the police? Come here.”

As if she’d been waiting for permission, Sansa ran over to her mother to take place at her other side, letting herself sob openly as they waited for the sirens of police cars to approach. They did, after what seemed like forever, and there were soon cops moving past them to investigate the scene.

"Mrs. Stark?" One of the officers was approaching them. "I have to ask you to please remove your dogs, otherwise we'll have to use force, and I don't want to have to do that."

Nymeria was standing protectively over the body, snarling ferociously at anyone who dared look at it. Sansa called softly for Lady and the dog came to press against her legs.

“Could you call Nymeria?” Catelyn asked Arya, her voice soft.

"Nymeria, come here girl, it's okay!" Arya choked out. The dog came reluctantly, and Arya fell to her knees, burying her face in her fur. "Good girl, you're such a good girl," she whispered brokenly.

Everything seemed to be a blur as they watched the authorities do their jobs, taking pictures and samples and asking questions. None of the three women knew how long it was before they went back home, but Catelyn gently sent Sansa and Arya back to bed before going back to the living room where the five boys were waiting.

Theon was sitting on the floor with Queenie sleeping in his lap, leaning back against Robb’s legs. Robb was sat on the couch above him next to Jon, with Rickon in between them. Bran was on the recliner as usual, his wheelchair sitting beside it.

"What is it?" Bran asked anxiously, his hand on Summer's head. Grey Wind let out a keening whine, and Robb stroked him to calm him down.

"What happened, mom?" he asked quietly.

“Your father...” Catelyn took a deep, shaking breath, steeling herself against the tears and sorrow fighting to come out. The look on her face one that Theon could read instantly. The look that showed she was about to bring news of death. He knew what happened before she even said it. “Your father has been killed.”

Rickon was the first to react. He wailed, confused, and clambered into Robb’s lap as if to hide from the words. Robb held him close, gaping at their mother.

"He... What?" he said weakly. Jon's face was drawn and pallid. Bran whimpered, tears welling in his eyes.

Catelyn felt sick when she said it again. “Your father was killed.”

“Drowned God," Theon whispered, staring at Catelyn. Rickon curled up against Robb, clutching his shirt.

"How?" Jon asked quietly, before he could stop himself. Ghost whined and pressed into Jon's embrace. "How did this happen?"

“I don’t know.” Her voice turned harsh, sharp as she looked at Jon. “And if I did, the details would not be discussed in front of all my children.” She looked over at Bran and Rickon and Robb, her harsh expression melting as quickly as it had came as she looked at her children.

Theon glanced sympathetically at Jon, seeing the hurt on his face, then looked back at Queenie. He didn’t cry, though he could hear crying coming from Sansa and Arya’s rooms, as well as from Bran and Rickon in the living room with him. If he looked up, he supposed he’d see tears on the faces of Jon and Robb as well. He didn’t look up, he just stared down at Queenie. He felt out of place and sick to his stomach. He remembered Ned asking him how he was doing just the other day. He’d said he was doing fine.

So much for that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheheheheheh (-: -m

The coming days after his father's death passed in a haze. Robb felt as though he was sleepwalking, and he had to be, because none of this could be real. His dad could not be dead, it just wasn't possible.

But Jon had already moved out, refusing to live in the house without the only adult who didn't loath his existence, and the dogs were all keening the disappearence of their brother Ghost. None of them knew where he had gone; they wouldn't see him again until the funeral processions, and not for a while after that. His mother moved like a zombie, dark circles under her eyes and makeup tear-smudged in the corners of her eyes.

The wake was held on the 30th, and they buried him the morning of the 31st. Robb donned his nicest suit, though he knew he would never be able to wear it again, and afterwards, when Catelyn was doing her utmost to comfort a sobbing Rickon, Robb wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth with his father. He wanted nothing more than to cry, harder than even Rickon, but if he did he would likely never stop.

Sansa and Arya, were, if possible, in even deeper shock than himself. After Arya's first midnight breakdown, in which she woke up wailing for dad, his mother had begun looking into specialized therapists. Sansa merely sat, still and quiet, barely speaking a word. He wanted to do the same, to withdraw into himself, but as he sat and watched the coffin lower into the ground, as the dogs all lifted their heads in a mourning howl, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The rational side of his brain, thankfully the only part that hadn't completely shut down, kept whispering that his mother needed him now more than ever.

Gone were any plans he had had with Theon to go away for college, to get an apartment together and just live. Gone were any ideals for a bright future with his parents at his side. His dad was dead, and his mother was a shell of herself. She would need help with Bran. She would need help with Rickon. She would need help paying the bills, because taking care of seven people wasn't cheap.

Theon was next to him, beautiful and guilty, looking lost and confused, as thought he thought it to be his own fault. Robb knew better. If it was anyone's fault, it was his own. He recalled a conversation they had had Christmas evening; his father's friend, the governor, Robert Baratheon, had died in a gruesome hunting accident. His father, the lieutenant governor, was set to take his place... He didn't want to. He had spoken to Robb and his mother about it, asking if it wouldn't be better to let somebody else take the job that he never wanted to begin with... Catelyn had stood by him, pledging her support no matter what decision he made. He, however, the idealistic fool he was, had insisted that his father take it. Who else would be better for the job? Who else could be trusted?

And how his father was dead, and Robb was helping toss dirt into the grave, and wishing for all the world that he had been a better son.

Theon was silent the whole ride back to the Stark house. It was New Year’s Eve, one of his favorite days of the year, but it had no semblance of joy to it now. He was the last into the house, scooping up little Queenie in his arms and going upstairs to his bedroom. He had been closed up in his room for most of the time since Ned had died, not wanting to intrude upon the Starks in their time of mourning. He almost wished he’d asked to go with Jon. He felt out of place, like an intruder. Queenie could tell something was wrong, and it hurt him to see his little puppy confused.

The house was still and silent, all of the Starks either sitting quietly in the living room, or in their bedrooms. Catelyn was sat on the couch, holding Ned's favorite coffee mug, staring numbly at the wall as the tea inside grew cold and tears streaked down her face. Arya was on the floor, face buried in Nymeria's fur, drawing in shaky breaths. Robb stood in the archway, surveying the scene, before retreating to the kitchen. In the cabinet above the fridge, he knew there to be his father's old alcohol stash. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey, not bothering to pour it into anything before he took a swig.

He wanted to be drunk, but he didn't want to be alone, so he wandered up the stairs to Theon's room, knocking once.

“Come in,” Theon called softly. He was sat on the center of his bed in just a pair of grey sweatpants, having stripped out of his suit once he’d reached his room. Queenie was sitting on the bed near him, peeking up when she heard the knock and giving a small yip when the door began to open. He gently stroked her soft fur, smiling weakly when he saw Robb. “Hey.” His gaze trailed down to the bottle. “I see you’ve brought something.”

"Yeah... Care for a drink?" he asked, lifting the bottle so the light glinted off it. His voice was husky and his hair was a ruffled mess. His suit jacket had been abandoned, his tie loosened, and he looked haggard. He walked forward and sat down on the bed next to Theon, looking over at him silently.

It was a really bad time for Theon to think Robb was hot, irresistible really, but he shook off the thought. “Yeah, lemme just bring Queenie to Sansa. Come on, pretty girl.” He picked up the little pup and left the room, coming back empty handed after a few minutes. He shut the door and locked it, not wanting to deal with the kids possibly coming in and seeing them drink, and then went back to sit by Robb. He took the bottle from his hand, wrapping his lips around the neck and taking a rather large swig.

As Theon pulled off the bottle, Robb took it back, and took a deep swallow. "This doesn't feel real," he admitted, lowering the bottle. "I keep thinking this can't be real, that it has to be a nightmare, but it's been days and I still haven't woken up. I can't wake up."

Theon nodded in agreement. “I mean, it’s different for you, of course, he was your actual dad, but I know what you mean.” Once Robb had his next turn, Theon took the bottle again to take two large swallows, not caring to take it slow. He handed it back. He wanted that light, careless buzz to set in quick.

Robb drank deeply and leaned into him, clearly seeking support. "I just want him back," he murmured. His eyes were burning and he squeezed them shut, refusing to cry.

Theon shifted over on the bed to sit so that his back rested against the headboard. “Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “If only.”

They drank in silence until the bottle was half empty and they were both feeling a buzz. Robb turned and looked up at Theon with affection in his eyes. "You're my best friend," he told him. "You're the only person I can bear to be around right now, you know that?"

Theon nodded slowly, staring back at Robb. He looked so tired, so sad, but so pretty, and Theon was entranced. “I’m glad I can be here for you,” he murmured, feeling his heart twitch. He told himself it was just a friendly twitch.

"You're always there for me," Robb said slowly, "and I feel like I don't do enough for you. You deserve so much, Thee." Robb sighed, taking another small sip, and leaned back against Theon's chest.

Oh. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, moving his arms to wrap around Robb. He was sat between Theon’s legs, and he felt so warm leaning against him. “I don’t, but thank you.” He admired the way Robb’s hair curled softly atop his head. “You’ve always been here for me too.”

"I wanna make it up to you," he slurred, and he turned against Theon's chest, kneeling between his legs. He looked up, meeting Theon's startled gaze, and before either of them could think twice about it, he pressed his lips to Theon's.

Theon didn’t even have time to speak before Robb’s lips were on his, and he didn’t fight it, happy to melt into the kiss. The alcohol in his body sure wasn’t helping the stirring in his pants at the implication of what Robb had said. Make it up to him. Theon groaned softly into the kiss, placing a hand on either side of his waist.

Robb's tongue brushed Theon's lip, deepening the kiss, and he ground his hips forward against Theon's. Any previous thought he had once had about restraint had fled his mind with the introduction of the alcohol, and he now delved whole-heartedly into it.

“Oh fuck,” Theon managed to murmur against his lips before completely and totally giving in to the kiss, moaning at the feeling of Robb’s tongue and gently nipping at his bottom lip, grinding back up against Robb.

"Can I?" Robb whispered against his lips. He slipped a hand down between them, fumbling for the waistband of Theon's sweatpants.

“Oh fuck, fuck, yes,” Theon groaned his consent, cock half-hard in his pants, his own hands fumbling to pull off Robb’s shirt.

Robb pulled back enough for Theon to slip his shirt off over his head, tousling his hair more than it already was, before diving back in, capturing Theon's lips once more with a new sort of desperation.

Theon lifted his hips so Robb could pull his sweatpants down over his ass, his boxers sliding down with them. He moaned into Robb’s mouth when his cock was exposed, starting to work at getting rid of Robb’s stupid suit pants.

Robb fisted at Theon's cock, stroking him to full erectness, as Theon unzipped his suit pants and wiggled them down over his ass. He groaned softly as Theon's hands went to the bulge in his boxers, grinding into his grip.

“Fuck, Robb,” Theon panted, hurriedly pulling Robb’s boxers down, moaning at the sight of his cock, hips jerking against Robb’s hand. He awkwardly tried to shift their positions. “I wanna- can I-“ He carefully moved so Robb was lying on his back on the bed and moved to kiss his neck, sucking and biting gently.

"Mm, fuck— Yeah, Thee," Robb gasped, tilting his head back to expose the line of his throat. "Do whatever you want."

Theon left a trail of hickeys and kisses down Robb’s chest, pausing at one of his nipples. He looked up at Robb, eyes cloudy with lust as he gently nipped at it, then swirled his tongue around and planted a careful kiss on it before pulling it between his teeth again, gently, teasing his tongue over the pink nub.

"Theon," Robb moaned, shutting his eyes. His cock was desperate, screaming to be touched, and his hips twitched up, seeking friction. "Stop being a tease."

“Patience,” Theon teased, moving a hand to hold Robb’s hips down. He gave that nipple one last kiss before moving to the other, giving it the same treatment, playing at it with his tongue and teeth. Once he decided he’d had enough of that, he began working his way down the defined muscles of his abdomen, licking and kissing and sucking. He grinned a bit as he reached Robb’s hips, slowly sucking hickeys onto the skin just above his hip bones, still not touching his cock.

Robb whined, and he grabbed a fistful of Theon's hair, gazing down at him with blue eyes heady with lust. His cock was almost painfully hard, swollen and flushed a dark red. He looked pleadingly at Theon, begging for more. Theon chuckled softly against his skin, trailing kisses toward Robb’s cock, leaning down and swiping a drop of precome from the slit before moving away from his cock again. He focused on one of Robb’s smooth, muscular thighs, kissing and sucking, making sure to leave his marks. He spread his legs wider for Theon's access, Robb released Theon's hair and reached for his cock; he was desperate for some sort of relief, and Theon wasn't delivering.

“Oh no you don’t.” Theon gently slapped Robb’s hand away, a wicked grin on his face. “You know, I was going to move to your cock next, but... I think you can wait.” He sucked a dark hickey at the top of Robb’s thigh, teasing at the sensitive skin with his teeth.

"Theon!" Robb protested. "Thee, please, I need—" he groaned as Theon kissed up his thigh, frustratingly close to where he needed him to be, before sliding away again. "I need you."

“Oh fuck,” Theon cursed, breath hot against Robb’s skin, feeling his heart pound and his cock throb at the praise. He stopped teasing then, quickly moving to take Robb’s cock in his mouth, taking almost all of it in right away and sucking, blue-green eyes gazing up at him.

Any words that Robb might have had died on his lips, and he groaned soundlessly, his hand falling to Theon's hair again, fisting at the soft locks and tugging gently.

"Shit," he gasped. "Fuck, Thee, you... You're so pretty like that. Shit, you're so pretty."

Theon moaned loudly around his cock, taking him in deeper. Being called a slut or a whore had turned him on with Jon, but Robb’s praise, the exact opposite, had him so turned on that he was shocked by his own composure. He took Robb all the way in, eyes fluttering shut as his cock hit against the back of his throat.

"You're so good, Thee," Robb said lustily. "So good. Why are you so good to me?" It was a bad time for it, but tears were stinging his eyes again, and he wanted to take Theon, wanted to fuck him and love him, to make him his. He wanted to absolve his being with him, but instead he fucked into his mouth and felt the way Theon's throat spasmed around him.

If Theon’s eyes had been open, Robb would’ve seen them rolling back in his head as he moaned around his cock. He could taste the bitter salty taste of precome and Robb’s pubes were tickling his nose, but having it heavy and hard in his mouth was pure bliss. Theon sucked and moaned and bobbed his head, trying to show Robb that he liked it, he loved it, having Robb’s cock in his mouth.

"So fucking pretty," Robb repeated, starting at him in wonder. "You feel so good, Thee, I wanna make you feel good."

Theon opened his eyes to stare back up at him, admiration and lust and something close to love in his eyes as he looked into Robb’s. He pulled off all the way, slowly, lips just a barely hovering above the head of his cock. “When you come- whenever you come- you can do it anywhere. My face, down my throat...” He trailed off, a bit dazed by his own thoughts of seeing Robb come undone, and quickly moved to take his cock in his mouth once again.

He groaned at the words, and louder as Theon took him in again, heat coiling in his groin. Theon's lips were nearing the base of his cock, his hands were on his spread thighs, and he looked so perfect. Robb was going to defile him. The hand he had laid on Theon's head grew heavy, pushing him down to take him all in, and he relished the little moan Theon made. Theon moaned loudly, happy to feel Robb’s cock hit against his throat again. He swallowed around it, knowing Robb would be able to feel the way his throat squeezed. He felt almost dizzy from arousal, tongue swirling around and teasing as he kept Robb’s cock in his mouth.

"Theon," he hissed, head falling back against the mattress. "Fuck, do that again. Please."

Theon hummed softly in amusement before swallowing again, moaning as he did so that Robb would feel the vibrations as well.

"Fuck, Thee, I'm gonna—" Robb bit back the words. "Keep doing that and I'm gonna cum," he warned.

Theon pulled off for just a moment to take a deep breath for talking all of Robb’s cock in his mouth once again, lips wrapped around the base. He hummed softly, looking up at Robb with half-lidded eyes as he swallowed around his cock again, throat squeezing around it.

"Thee!" His cock twitched in Theon's mouth, and he pulled Theon off him so he came across his face. Spurts of cum fell over Theon's cheek, his lips, and down his chin. Robb's eyes opened and he looked down at him, panting.

Theon stared Robb straight in the eye as he darted his tongue out, moaning softly as he licked the come off his lips and where he could reach on his chin. It tasted bitter and salty but somehow good, it tasted like Robb, and his own cock throbbed between his legs as he swallowed what he could.

Robb smeared his thumb through the mess and pressed it against Theon's lips, inviting. "You're so good, Theon," he praised. "Too good."

Theon took Robb’s thumb in his mouth, sucking it clean before moving back up on the bed, straddling Robb’s hips as he leaned down to kiss him, heart fluttering and cock throbbing at the praise. He could taste himself in Theon's mouth, and it was way more of a turn on than he would have thought. He sat up, carrying Theon with him, and laid him down on the bed, leaning over him. He studied his face, eyes trailing over the smears of cum still on his cheek, and then down his chest, his stomach, and to his weeping erection.

“Robb,” Theon groaned, leaning up to try and capture his lips in a kiss once again, his hips twitching as Robb looked at him. The way he was looking made Theon’s skin feel hot, made his heart beat faster in his chest.

Robb kissed him briefly before pushing him down, holding him there while he moved down his body. His breath blew hot over Theon's erection, his lips coming close enough to brush lightly down the length. Theon whimpered, hips jerking a little bit at the feeling. He hadn’t touched his cock at all the whole time he’d been sucking Robb’s, and he was achingly, painfully hard. He grinned against him, loving it, and kissing the head before moving downward, pressing his lips to the soft patch of skin under Theon's balls.

“Oh,” Theon whispered, shivering slightly at the feeling of Robb’s lips on that sensitive spot.

"Like that?" Robb murmured, kissing him gently, trailing his lips over his skin, kissing down to his inner thigh and biting.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered, tipping his head back to rest against the pillows, moaning obscenely loud when Robb bit down, his cock twitching. Precome was dribbling out of the tip and smearing down the length, but Theon made no move to touch himself.

"Payback," he hummed playfully, sucking a line of bruises down his thigh. "Hope you're patient, pretty Thee."

Theon practically hissed in annoyance and desperation, giving Robb a dirty look. “I was hard the whole time I sucked you off! I already was patient!”

"Screwed yourself there, Thee... Nobody ever said you couldn't touch yourself," Robb pointed out, glancing up at him. Theon's thigh was going to be a mess of flowered bruises come morning, marked up by Robb's mouth, marked as his own.

“I-I-“ Theon let out a high-pitched whine, squirming. “I didn’t want to touch myself, I wanted you to touch me!” he protested, voice cracking.

"Touch you how, Thee?" Robb asked huskily, rising up and leaning over him. "Do you want me to touch you here?" He slid his fingers over Theon's cock. "Want me to fuck you?"

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Robb.” Theon nodded desperately, jerking his hips. “Yes, yes, want you to fuck me.” Robb’s voice alone sent sparks of pleasure and need through his nerves.

"Want me to suck you?" he whispered. "Make you mine?" His hand wrapped loosely around Theon's cock, stroking agonizingly slow.

“Yes,” Theon answered immediately, repeating the word over and over for a moment before breaking off into a moan, bucking his hips up to thrust his cock into Robb’s fist.

"Good," he praised, and lowered his head, bringing his mouth down by Theon's cock. Robb chuckled as Theon's hips bucked desperately. "Think you deserve a reward?"

“Stop asking questions and just suck my cock!” Theon begged, not sounding very commanding at all when his voice shook from pure desperation. He kept jerking his hips, trying to get Robb’s mouth on his cock.

Robb's lips quirked in amusement, finally bringing his attention to Theon's needy cock. "I don't think I will, actually," he said, before ghosting right past it and moving down, licking instead at Theon's hole.

“Wha-“ Theon’s words turned into a low moan, eyes going wide when he felt Robb’s tongue over his hole. “What are you doing?” he managed. Robb had just licked him. He didn’t know guys did that. He didn’t know it would feel so fucking good.

"Making you feel good," Robb said, glancing up at him briefly before focusing on Theon's pretty hole. He pushed Theon's legs further apart and leaned in, kissing it sweetly.

Theon cursed quietly, staring down in shock as Robb’s lips pressed against him. He reached down, unable to help himself, and slowly stroked his cock.

"Oh, no you don't." Robb slapped his hand away sharply. "Don't make me punish you, Thee."

“Punish me?” Theon raised an eyebrow but dropped his hand to the side. “And how would you do that?”

"I could stop," Robb said, looking into his eyes as he pushed his tongue inside of him.

“Ah!” Theon gasped, cock twitching as he felt Robb’s tongue on him, inside him. “Oh fuck, Robb...” He stared back down at him in awe.

If he could have, Robb would have smirked back at him, but instead he narrowed his eyes and fucked him deeper with his tongue. Theon's muscles were twitching around him.

Theon tipped his head back against the pillows and shut his eyes, hands fisting in the sheets beneath him. “Oh fuck, fuck," he cursed. It felt so good, too good, and he couldn’t believe Robb was doing it to him.

Robb's hand slid from Theon's thigh and he pushed a finger against his slick hole, probing inside of him, pushing in and searching for that spot. Theon wanted so badly to touch himself, to combat the feeling of Robb’s tongue on his ass with the feeling of a hand on his cock. He rolled his hips down a bit, trying to take the finger in deeper, pleaded when Robb obliged and pushed it in more. He gasped as it brushed over his prostate.

“More,” Theon pleaded, biting down on his lip when Robb obliged, a second finger sliding in and curling up against his prostate. His tongue felt heavenly, licking around where his fingers disappeared inside him. He was curious as to how Robb learned how to do what he was doing, but was too dazed from pleasure to ask.

His cock was truly aching, throbbing and dripping precome. He wanted Robb to touch his cock more than anything, but the way he was twisting and scissoring his fingers inside him, tongue dipping in and swirling around his rim and his fingers was absolute bliss. Two of Robb’s fingers were prodding at his prostate and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with pleasure, he’d have been embarrassed by the sounds he was making. As it was, he was more occupied with the thick pleasure pooling and curling in the pit of his stomach.

“Robb- Robb, oh fuck,” Theon whimpered, trying not to buck his hips too much but still pushing down back onto Robb’s fingers and tongue, practically crying out when he felt a third finger slide inside of him. His fists clenched tighter in the sheets and he tipped his head back further, eyes shut. He was writhing and moaning on the bed, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his skin.

He was quite the sight, writhing and arching his back, hips rolling and pushing back into Robb’s fingers, his hair a mess from when Robb had been holding it and from tossing his head back against the pillows.

He was getting close, he could feel it, just from Robb’s fingers pushing and grinding against his prostate and his tongue toying at his hole along with them. His skin was flushed, face and chest and cock.

Theon let out a strangled cry, pulling a hand up so he could bite down to muffle it, not wanting everyone in the house to hear. His cock twitched and he was coming, spurts of come spilling out onto his stomach, moans that sounded akin to sobs muffled by his hand.

Robb climbed over him, his cock hard again between his legs, and licked clean the lines of cum over Theon's belly. Theon was trembling, coming down from the high of his orgasm, and he was the prettiest fucking thing he had ever seen. His head was swimming with affection and the buzz from the alcohol, and he licked and sucked along Theon's throat, winding up his jaw, up to the corner of his mouth, but staying clear of his lips.

"So beautiful, Thee," he said in a hushed, reverent tone.

“Fuck, Robb,” Theon panted softly, opening his eyes to look at Robb, pupils blown and clouded with lust. His heart was pounding and he felt so good, warm and floaty and trembling from the strength of his orgasm. His cock softened and he relaxed on the bed, letting out soft moans as Robb sucked along his jaw.

"Mmm, Thee, can I fuck you?" he whispered against his lips, staring into Theon's eyes. His cock was achingly hard, and all he wanted was to make Theon cum over and over again, all night long, drawing out that lovely voice like song.

“Please.” Theon nodded, lifting his head so that he could kiss Robb, his cock twitching slightly at the thought of being fucked.

Kissing him, Robb grabbed Theon by the hips, lifting them up and sinking into him, groaning at the feeling. "Oh, shit Thee..." he panted.

Theon gasped at the sudden intrusion, whimpering softly. It didn’t hurt, but Robb’s cock was bigger than his fingers, so it was a little uncomfortable. “Robb,” Theon moaned, leaning up to kiss him again. “Just- gimme a moment- to adjust.”

"Of course," he murmured, brushing his lips against Theon's. He stilled his hips, letting Theon grow accustomed to the girth of him, and leaned his forehead against Theon's.

“You feel good.” Theon looked up at him, blue-green eyes staring into bright blue, finding himself momentarily breathless at the sight of Robb above him. His hair was messy, his face tinted pink and his lips puffy and red from kissing. He looked more undone than Theon had ever seen him, and it made his heart swell in his chest.

Robb looked back at him wordlessly. Theon was hot and tight around him--he was inside of him, oh gods--and he wanted nothing more than to fuck into him, really make Theon his, but he refrained. Theon's eyes were round and watery, so gorgeous, and he was staring up at Robb like he was his entire world. Robb wanted to make him feel like that himself.

Theon finally broke the silence, his voice heavy with lust. “You can fuck me now. I’m okay.” He kept looking at Robb, the way he was looking at him making blood rush back down to his cock, gradually growing to become half-hard. When he saw Robb hesitate, still staring down at him, he spoke again. “Robb, I’m serious, you can fuck me. I won’t break.”

Obliging, Robb pushed in deeper so his hips fell flush against Theon's. He huffed out a desperate breath, thrusting into him again, and he could feel Theon twitching around him as he moved. He kissed him hard, picking up a pace so he was rhythmically fucking into him, relishing the little noises Theon was making.

Theon gasped, kissing him back, moans muffled against Robb’s lips. Robb’s cock felt so good inside him, better than any of the either two had, as if it fit perfectly inside of him, just the right thickness and length. He lifted his hips a bit and suddenly shuddered as Robb’s cock hit right against his prostate. “Fuck, there- Robb, please.” He sounded desperate, needy, reaching up to hold on to Robb’s back.

"Right there?" Robb asked, studying him, thrusting just right so the head of his cock rubbed over that spot.

“Yes, please!” Theon cried out, hips bucking up against Robb’s. His cock was fully hard now, nails digging lightly into the skin of Robb’s back.

Robb groaned deeply, sure he would have scratch marks down by back by the time this was over, and loving the thought of it, loving the thought of Theon marking him up. He leaned fully into him, Theon's cock hard between them, and captured Theon's lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

Theon was hit by the startling revelation that the feeling in his chest was not new. As his lips moved against Robb’s, moaning into his mouth and running his tongue over his lip, he realized that the swelling in his chest that happened every time he saw Robb was not just friendly, that he’d been repressing this feeling for years, that the thought had always been tingling in the back of his mind- and suddenly every daydream and the way he felt when Robb looked him in the eye made sense. He pushed gently at Robb’s chest, breaking away from the kiss.

“Let me ride you?”

"Shit, Thee, yeah," and Robb sat back, pulling Theon with him up into his lap, so close their chests bumped together and he crashed their mouths together again, swallowing down Theon's whines and moans as he thrust up into him.

Theon kissed him for a minute before he sat up and placed his hands on Robb’s chest, sitting still on his cock, savoring the feeling for a moment as he grinding his hips down against it, letting the head rub against his prostate. He stared down at Robb in adoration, admiring his gorgeous face, his messy auburn hair, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He wanted Robb to feel good. He wanted Robb to be able to lay back and just enjoy it. He wanted Robb’s eyes on him as he rode his cock.

He had a knee resting on the bed on either side of Robb, and he carefully began to lift himself up again. He didn’t pull all the way off, only until the head was the last thing inside him, and then he dropped back down with a loud moan.

Robb leaned back, propping himself up with an elbow, and rested his other hand on Theon's hip. He watched hungrily as Theon rode him, watched as his cock disappeared inside of him.

"Mm, fuck..." he groaned.

“Robb,” Theon moaned, the name smooth and sweet on his tongue. He tipped his head back, back arching, eyes fluttering shut. He steadily lifted and dropped his hips, making sure to angle himself so Robb’s cock hit his prostate with each roll of his hips.

"So beautiful, Thee," Robb said softly, gazing up at him in awe. He decided he wanted to hear Theon say his name like that forever, wanted to drive pleasure deep into him and drag out that sweet voice like song.

Theon whimpered at the praise, picking up the pace a bit, cock leaking and twitching as he grew close to his orgasm. “I’m gonna- Robb, I’m gonna come soon,” he warned.

Robb groaned, eyes hot on Theon's skin as he bucked his hips and felt Theon's muscles spasm around him. "Come for me, Thee," he murmured, sitting up and kissing up Theon's throat, tracing over the marks he had previously left, sucking the bruises deeper into his flesh.

Theon’s arms wrapped around Robb’s chest, holding him close, grinding and bouncing in his lap. “I- fuck...” His voice was weak, cracking, and he could feel his orgasm coming. It hit him like a tidal wave, white-hot pleasure pulsing through his body, his come streaking on his and Robb’s stomachs. “Oh fuck, Robb, I-I love you, I fucking love you, oh fuck!” He leaned in, eyes shut, kissing Robb hard as he rode out his orgasm, clenching around and grinding down on his cock.

Robb's breath caught in his throat as the heat coiled in his belly burst and he spilled deep into Theon, filling him. He... loved him? Theon loved him? He loved him, and suddenly Robb was hit by crushing guilt, so thick he could barely breathe, and fuck it all, he loved him too. He crashed his mouth against Theon's in a needy, desperate semblance of a kiss.

Theon moaned into the kiss as he felt Robb spill inside him, feeling Robb’s cock twitch and swell as he came. He kept kissing him until he went soft and could feel Robb’s cock going soft as well.

He gently lifted himself off Robb’s lap with a small whine, moving to lay on his back on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling with a dazed grin, turning his head to look back to Robb. “That was good. Really fucking good.”

Falling onto the bed next to Theon, Robb was almost dizzy. He reached wordlessly forward and wrapped his arms around Theon, hugging his body to him. His lips brushed lightly over Theon's forehead, sweet and tender and everything that he wanted to say but never could, compressed into the simple action.

Theon very happily curled up against Robb, foreheads almost touching, staring into those deep blue eyes. His heart was full and he felt like he was on top of the world. Robb’s arms felt so good, so warm and safe, and Theon’s eyes were full of love and affection as he looked at him.

The look in Theon's eyes only served to make Robb feel worse, however, and he couldn't bear to see it. He laid gentle kisses over Theon's face, coaxing him into full relaxation, and when his eyelids slipped shut, Robb kissed those too. He held Theon close, his head throbbing and fuzzy, and listened to his even breathing.

Theon couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so warm and safe, Robb’s soft kisses making his heart swell and his whole body relax. He almost wanted to stay awake, just so he could look at and admire Robb, but he couldn’t help but slip off to sleep in Robb’s arms.

He lay still for what felt like forever, relishing the feeling of Theon snuggled up to him, and committing the moment to memory. After a long while, with Theon snoozing against him all along, Robb couldn't take it anymore. He slid carefully out of Theon's grasp, taking great care not to wake him, and slipped out of bed. He pulled his pants on and seized the abandoned bottle of whiskey off of the nightstand, gathering the rest of his clothes in silence. Robb shut the door carefully behind him and retreated to his own room, his own bed, where he could lay and drink in peace, what he should have done to begin with.

No sooner than he hit the mattress did the tears come, burning his eyes as the whiskey burned his throat. Theon loved him. Theon, his godsdamned best friend, loved him, and he had used him. Used him for sex like some cheap whore, like Theon wasn't his most precious person. There was no excuse—they had drank the same amount, but he had taken advantage of Theon's vulnerability in the moment of his own, and for fuck's sake, he had buried his father just that morning. What kind of son was he? What kind of friend was he? Getting drunk and fucking his best friend after his father's funeral... despicable.

He drank, and he could drink himself stupid, but it wouldn't make it difference because he had already done the one thing he would regret for the rest of his life. The sobs were moving through him now, wracking his body with pitiful shakes, and for one harrowing second he wanted to snuff it out, and that longing to climb down into the grave and sleep there forever was back.

He couldn't stop now; he hadn't cried in so damned long, and he pressed his palms to his eyes and tried to stop, tried to bite back the wail fighting to get out of him, but he could only break it down to a pathetic, tormented whine. He wanted Grey Wind, but the dog was elsewhere, he didn't know where. He wanted Theon, but he was asleep, and he deserved him now less than he ever had before. He wanted his dad, but he was gone now to where he could never follow. He would never see him again.

Robb hated crying. He hated how it made him feel, hated the way it made his cheeks burn and his eyes hurt, hated how fucking tired it made him. His throat was raw and his cheeks were wet, and he hated it. He drank until he couldn't think straight, couldn't remember why he was drinking to begin with. His head was pounding, and he wanted to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Theon woke up to an empty bed. He sat up, confused, rubbing his eyes and stretching, yawning. The bed next to him wasn’t even warm, so no one had been there for a while. The sheets didn’t even look that wrinkled. He knew he fell asleep with Robb, but it was almost noon, and Robb didn’t sleep as late as he did. It would have been nice to wake up in Robb’s arms, but he figured he’d gone to help with breakfast or something. He grimaced as he sat up, a bit of discomfort from being fucked, wrinkling his nose in disgust when he threw the blankets off himself and realized Robb’s cum had leaked out of his ass and onto the sheets. He wiped it up with a random sock lying on the floor next to his bed, throwing it back onto the floor after. He threw on some more clothes from the floor and grabbed a clean pair before heading to the bathroom, taking a quick shower. He went to Robb’s room afterwards, a crooked grin on his face as he knocked on the door.

After a moment, Robb opened the door, and he looked horrendous. His hair was a tangled mess, and the bags under his eyes indicated that he had not slept at all. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and hurt to be used. "Hey," he greeted, not meeting Theon's gaze.

“Hey.” Theon’s grin very quickly turned into a concerned frown. “Babe, you look like shit, what’s wrong?” He stepped closer and reached out, placing one hand softly on Robb’s hip.

Robb shrank back, looking sick and guilty. "I drank too much," he muttered, trying to maneuver around Theon.

Theon’s frown deepened. “Are you okay?” He was oblivious to the fact that Robb was trying to avoid him and he stepped towards Robb once again, not trying to touch him this time. “You didn’t have to leave my bed this morning. I don’t mind if you’re kinda cranky.”

"I didn't leave this morning," Robb said, still refusing to look at him. "I left last night, after you fell asleep."

“Oh.” Something twisted unpleasantly in Theon’s gut. He reached out, placing a hand under Robb’s chin and gently tilting his head up so Robb would look at him. “Babe, did you sleep at all?”

"No," Robb replied, twisting his head out of Theon's grip and pushing his hand aside. "Not one bit."

“You need to.” Theon felt hurt by the way Robb rejected his touch, but he brushed it off. Robb was just tired and hungover. “I can lay in bed with you, if you want.”

"No, I'm... I'm fine." He forced a smile, so obviously and painfully fake. "I'd rather be alone, if you don't mind."

“Okay...” Theon stepped back, then turned around, walking back to his own room with a million different thoughts in his head. Robb obviously wasn’t fine. Was the sex bad? Did Theon do something wrong? He’d thought, from the way Robb had been holding him and kissing him when he fell asleep, that Robb had enjoyed himself. No, Theon was sure Robb enjoyed it. “He’s just hungover,” Theon muttered to himself, pushing down any hurt feelings as he stopped to get Queenie from Sansa’s room on the way back to his own.

Robb had shut the door quickly as Theon walked away, but he made no move to step away from it. He stared blankly at the wood, feeling hot and sick to his stomach. He had never before been less sure of what to do in a situation, and the feeling of utter helplessness was terrifying.

"Hi, Theon," Sansa greeted as she opened the door for him. Her phone was in her hand, open to text messages with the name 'Joff', a kissy emoji, and two hearts next to. She smiled down at her phone as another text came in, then blushed and stuffed it into her pocket. "Are you here for Queenie?"

“Hey Sansa!” Theon smiled at her, the smile widening when Queenie came running to the doorway where he stood. He knelt down to let the pup lick his face before picking her up. He noticed the flush on Sansa’s cheeks. “Yeah, thanks for watching her. Who are you texting?”

"Oh... My boyfriend," she said shyly, sitting down on her bed next to a lounging Lady, who was wearing a pretty purple collar with a ribbon flower on it.

“Boyfriend?” Theon’s bright smile turned into a smirk. “Who is it? Wait- let me guess. Is it that Lannister kid? Joffrey? The one you’re always talking to at school?”

"Yes," she said, blushing deeper. "He's very nice to me, and our fa-" Her face fell. "Our fathers were good friends."

Theon moved to sit on the bed, raising an eyebrow at Sansa to make sure it was okay first. Queenie squirmed in his lap, trying to climb up him and lick his hand. “As long as he’s good to you. But be careful.”

"I will, thank you, Theon. What about you? You look like something is bothering you," she said curiously.

“Robb’s just in a mood. Didn’t sleep last night or something.” Theon shrugged, giving his pup a kiss on the head, which drove her bonkers as she tried to kiss all over his face again.

Sansa grew thoughtful, biting her lip. "I don't blame him. I wouldn't have been able to sleep well, either, if I had had to give a eulogy. It was so beautiful, too..." Tears were welling in her eyes and she blinked them away. "As it was, I didn't sleep well either."

“It’s so horrible, Ned was like another father-“ Theon cut himself off, not wanting to upset the redhead. “I’m sorry, Sansa.” He reached out, gently patting her shoulder.

She smiled sadly. "Me too." She stood with a sigh and strode across the room to her dresser, her skirt swishing around her legs. She picked something pink off the top and turned back around, handing Queenie's collar to Theon. "I took it off her last night so her fur wouldn't get matted in it," she explained.

“Thank you. Also, thanks for watching her. I hope she wasn’t too much work.” He smiled at the pup, putting her collar in his pocket, figuring she didn’t need it on just yet. “She’s a sweet little girl, isn’t she?”

"She's a darling," Sansa beamed, kissing the little dog's fuzzy forehead. "Feel free to drop her off any time you need a little time to yourself."

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Theon beamed as Queenie leaped from his lap onto Sansa’s, yipping happily as she tried to lick at her face.

"Sweet little lady," Sansa laughed, and Lady lifted her head to give her an inquisitive look. "No, not you, though you are a sweetie too!" Lady sighed a dog sigh and lay her head down wearily, looking desolate. She, like the other wolfdogs, was missing her brother.

After a few moments of silence, Theon stood up and gently scooped Queenie up in his arms. “I’m gonna go see if Robb is done being grumpy. Thanks again for watching my pup.”

"It was a pleasure," Sansa said, giving Theon a quick hug and Queenie a final pat. "Good luck with my brother."

He flashed a final smile in her direction before leaving the room, closing the door behind him and making his way back to Robb’s. He knocked three times. He was met with silence. Inside the room, Robb was laying in bed, arm wrapped loosely around Grey Wind beside him. The sound of the knock barely registered in his brain, lost in thought as he was, and the only move he made was to blink and to breathe.

Theon opened the door despite the lack of response, looking worriedly at Robb on the bed. “Robb?”

Robb glanced over at him, but looked quickly away as though he was burned. Grey Wind, however, lifted his head and wagged his tail eagerly at the sight of him. "You're back," Robb observed.

Theon set Queenie down and shut the door behind them, walking over to the bed. “I am,” He nodded, moving to straddle Robb with a cheeky grin on his lips. “Are you feeling better?”

Robb tensed up beneath him. "Uh, no. Can you get off, please?" he asked quietly, avoiding Theon's gaze. He didn't think he could bear to see Theon's face right now.

Theon’s grin turned into a frown again. Robb just must not have been in the mood, he supposed. “Uh, yeah, okay.” He slid off rather ungracefully, sitting on the side of the bed. “Can I do anything to help?”

"No," Robb said, rolling onto his side to face the wall. Grey Wind whimpered and plopped his head on Robb's hip, staring forlornly at Theon, clearly confused.

Theon reached out and scratched gently behind Grey Wind’s ear. “Are you sure? Painkillers? Water?”

"......both would be nice, I guess. Thank you," he said. He squeezed his eyes shut as Theon came closer, trying to stifle the drowning guilt in his gut.

Theon left the room, coming back a few minutes later with a bottle of painkillers in one pocket and a bottle of water in the other, a mug of tea in each hand. He carefully set everything down on the nightstand. “Your mom made tea. She told me to bring some up for you.”

Robb rolled back over, staring at the mug with watery eyes. "She did?" He sat up, wincing as the pounding in his head grew worse. "Thank you," he repeated. Maddeningly, he still refused to make eye contact.

“Yeah. She gave me one, too.” He sat on the edge of the bed, picking up one of the mugs himself. He blew at it gently and took a sip, Queenie jumping at his ankles.

Reflexively, Robb scooted his feet up away from where Theon had sat. He stared down into the depths of the mug, willing the moisture in his eyes to go away lest Theon notice it and remark on it. He wished Theon would leave; he really just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, babe?” Theon looked down at him, eyes soft and worry clear on his face.

"Don't call me that, Theon. Please," he whispered, and finally he looked up at him, and his blue eyes were wrought with tears yet to fall. "I don't want to do this, Theon."

Theon froze, sea-green eyes wide with shock. “You- Wait, you what?” He felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. Just last night they’d been curled up with each other, sharing kisses. Theon had told Robb he fucking loved him.

Rather than answer, Robb's gaze fell back to his lap. He took a sip of the tea, reveling in the comfort it offered, and knowing that he didn't deserve it. "I don't want to do this," he repeated. "Please, just leave me alone."

“What do you mean?” Theon’s voice sounded strained, his confusion and hurt clear in his tone and on his face. “What don’t you want to do?”

"This! Us! I don't know," Robb snapped, more fiercely than he had intended. His head and heart were pounding. He didn't think he had ever hated himself more. "I can't look at you right now."

Theon visibly flinched, feeling as if Robb had just stabbed a dagger into his chest. His gut twisted and he felt sick, angry and hurt and used. He scooped up Queenie in his arms and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He got to his room as quickly as possible, making sure his door was shut before he placed Queenie down gently on the bed and sat beside her, bringing his knees up to his chest and hugging them to himself, back against the headboard. He took a deep, shaking breath to try to calm himself, but it didn’t do any good. A sob overpowered and sort of composure he was trying to gather, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. It was a blessing and a curse that crying was commonplace in the Stark house at the moment, so no one would find concern if they were to hear Theon crying- which he was sure they would. His face burned red and his heart ached as he completely broke down, Queenie licking at his arms and trying to see his face as he sobbed. He quickly pulled her onto his lap, clutching her to him. She licked his face as he sobbed, not minding that he was violently trembling and getting her fur wet.

He never cried. He hadn’t in years- at least, not often, anyway, except for when he’d last visited his mom. At least with his mom he’d expected it a bit. With Robb, he hadn’t. Robb was his best friend, Robb had just fucked him and kissed him and held him till he fell asleep. Theon told him he loved him.

He had told him he loved him.

He played it over in his head, again and again, the way Robb had looked at him the night before versus the way Robb had looked just now, and his sobs became louder and more erratic, frantic breaths between them, until he was worried he was going to vomit or pass out from lack of air. Queenie was the only thing keeping him grounded, her soft fur and gentle tongue, the way she continued to look at him as if he was the greatest thing in the world- even when he was sobbing, face ugly and twisted and red.

“I love him,” He whispered to her, and she just licked him in response, snuggling up to his chest as he sobbed. “I love him, and he doesn’t even fucking want me.”

Queenie whined, as if to say ‘well I love you!’ and Theon let out a weak laugh between sobs, thankful that at least she wouldn’t tell him to leave.

Down the hall, Robb lay stock still in bed, staring up at the ceiling, cheeks wet with tears. He had no right, he thought, to be lying here drowning in self-condemnation, not while he could hear Theon's pain. Grey Wind let out a keening whine, nosing at him, and there was something akin to disappointment in those yellow eyes that Robb couldn't bear to see.

"Don't," he murmured, gently pushing the dog's nose away. Grey Wind pushed back, growling, and overtook the fighting hand to lay across Robb's chest. Robb resigned himself, stroking the dog, and there was something about the familiarity and the warm weight of him that was oddly comforting, almost as much as the tea. The weight on his chest was nothing compared to the weight inside it, with his heart like molten lead.

"Why is this so hard, Grey Wind?" he asked, his stomach churning. The dog said nothing, of course, but he leaned up and licked the tears from Robb's cheeks. Why did he feel so empty? His entire essence was made up of swarming guilt and nothing else, and he curled himself around Grey Wind and tried to make the world disappear. 'Sleep, please sleep,' he thought pleadingly, 'please sleep so I can stop thinking', but he was afraid to even blink because every time he closed his eyes, Theon's broken expression was there, and he didn't think he would ever be able to sleep again.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all im feeling very emotional this morning bc I just. I just love Theon Greyjoy so much -m

It had only been a day or two, but Theon hadn’t tried to talk to Robb at all since he’d been snapped at, betrayed, told that the man he loved didn’t even want to look at him. Robb sure as hell hadn’t tried to talk to him either. Theon had barely left his room, just enough so that the Stark kids and Catelyn wouldn’t get suspicious, but he knew he looked like shit and they all heard him crying at night. He was, for once, glad to be going back to school, glad for the distraction.

He rode to school in the van with the kids, not bothering to even try to ask Robb for a ride, and the drive felt longer than it was. It was too silent, without Ned or Robb or Jon, and with Theon looking as if he’d not slept in days. He was the one who helped Bran out of the van, with a bit of assistance from Catelyn. When he walked through the doors of the school, he did so alone.

Robb wasn't altogether surprised to find Theon's seat empty when he showed up in Professor Qyburn's chemistry class, but it was awfully lonely completing the lab work without Theon by his side, having a blast with the different chemical reactions he could induce. The car ride to school, too, was unbearably lonely, but he knew riding in the van with the rest of them, with Theon next to him, would have been infinitely worse.

Worse still were the pitying looks he kept receiving from teachers and fellow students. They all had heard, of course, and they all seemed to think he wanted to be reminded about it at every turn. He didn't see Theon in history, either, nor in Professor Baelish's English class. It wasn't unusual for Theon to be skipping, so why was he so anxious? The answer was clear-- he had seen him this morning, lurking around the front of the school, icy eyes hunting. They had scowled at each other as Robb walked brusquely past, and Robb just prayed to the gods that he steered clear of Theon.

Theon, of course, was under the bleachers. He was joined during second period by a stranger, oddly handsome, with his dark hair and eyes a shade of blue so light they were almost clear. He’d spoken smoothly, voice low, unique, and oddly familiar. He was charming, able to make Theon laugh, and the uncomfortable feeling he’d had when first seeing the man was quickly gone.

Theon could’ve sworn he’d met him before, but he didn’t say anything about it. They talked about other things as Theon smoked a joint, and somehow Theon felt comfortable spilling his guts to this complete stranger. Ramsay was his name, and he told Theon he’d seen him around before and always thought he was handsome. He told him he’d never had the nerve to approach him before, and Theon’s aching heart felt just a tiny bit better.

Theon ended up telling him more than he should’ve. He told him how his father kicked him out and he lived with the Starks, how his sister was angry with him, how the only man who’d ever been like a father to him was dead, how Robb was mad at him for some reason, and how Robb wasn’t talking to him currently. Ramsay had listened, eyes staring into Theon’s own the whole time, and Theon found he couldn’t stop talking once he started. Ramsay seemed so genuinely interested.

He surprised himself when he told Ramsay that he and Robb had a falling out, even if he didn’t tell him how or why. Ramsay had been so understanding, though, gently reassuring him that he would be fine, that everything would turn out okay. Time flew by, and suddenly the last bell was ringing and Theon realized he’d missed every single one of his classes in favor of talking to the stranger under the bleachers- though he wasn’t a stranger anymore.

They snuck back in one of the back doors of the school, Ramsay going with Theon to his locker to get his books and listening to Theon as he talked the whole way. Theon felt so much lighter, knowing he at least had someone to talk to, someone who cared about what was bothering him. They walked out of the school together, standing to the side of the front doors for a moment as Theon passed Ramsay his phone. Ramsay added his number to Theon’s contacts, giving him a soft pat on the back and a wink before walking off to his car.

When he got back in the Stark’s van, he looked much more relaxed than he had that morning.

Sansa remarked on this, smiling affectionately. "You look better. Did you and Robb finally have that heart to heart you needed?" In the driver's seat, Catelyn was paying close attention as well; she didn't know exactly what happened, but she would have had to be blind to not notice the tension between the boys.

Arya poked her head around the side of her seat, staring at him. "Yeah, did you? It's really weird seeing you guys mad at each other."

Theon’s mood dropped considerably at the mention of Robb.

“No, we didn’t," he said with a small shrug, as if it wasn’t bothering him. “I just made a new friend. It was nice talking to someone new, you know?”

Her face fell, but she quickly plastered on a look of fake cheer. "Yeah. Who's your friend?"

“His name is Ramsay. We hung out a lot today.” Theon’s smile returned a bit and he glanced down at his phone, deciding to text a simple ‘hey’ to Ramsay, who’s number looked strangely familiar. He brushed it off. “He was really nice.”

"Ramsay? As in Ramsay Bolton?" Catelyn asked sharply. Sansa blinked, caught off guard by the tone, but Arya gave her mother a contemplative look, glancing back and forth between her and Theon. Bran lifted his head from where he'd been gazing, bored, out the window and listened in curiously.

Theon was a bit startled by her tone, but he brushed it off as best he could. “Yeah, that’s him... do you know him?”

"I know his father," she replied, tone turning distant and cold. "Not Ramsay personally."

“Oh,” Theon paused a moment, feeling uncomfortable. “Okay.” He looked back down at his phone as it buzzed, smiling a little bit to see Ramsay had replied so soon. He quickly responded.

"I made a friend today, too," Sansa volunteered, eager to alleviate the sudden tension in the car. "Her name is Margaery Tyrell, Joff introduced me to her..."

As Sansa rambled off, Arya leaned towards Theon. "Hey," she hissed.

Theon smiled, happy for Sansa’s change in subject, but turned to Arya when he heard her. “What?” He replied quietly, as if everyone wasn’t in a crowded van and could see who was talking to who anyway.

"What happened with you guys?" Arya asked, eyes burning with curiosity. "Did you break up or something?"

“Break up?” Theon’s brows furrowed. “Huh? How would we break up, we’re just friends?”

"I caught you kissing, twice!" she whispered, rolling her eyes. "Obviously," she drawled, dragging the syllables, "you were a little more than friends."

Theon felt a pang in his heart at her words and grimaced. He’d also thought they were a little more than friends. “No, never. That was just us joking around,” he lied, looking back down to his phone to send a reply to Ramsay.

Arya leaned back, gazing at him with evident dissatisfaction. "That's a stupid joke," she said, and turned back around in her seat as Catelyn pulled into the driveway. Robb's coupe was already in its spot, and Robb himself was on the little porch, unlocking the door.

Theon once again helped Bran out of the van and into the house before heading up to his own room. He let out a soft laugh at a text from Ramsay before another one followed it. If he wasn’t feeling okay, he sure as hell didn’t plan on showing it any more than he already had. He didn’t want to give Robb the satisfaction. If Ramsay could take his mind off it, distract him, then so be it.

‘want to call?’

Theon paused for a moment, looking down at his phone. He really had nothing else to do. He sent a ‘yes’ as he closed the door to his room, greeting Queenie before flopping down on the bed. Ramsay was calling before even a minute had passed, and Theon happily answered the call.

"Hey," Ramsay greeted, voice light and warm. "Did you make it home okay?"

“Yeah,” Theon smiled at the voice of his new friend. Queenie crawled onto his lap and he combed his fingers through her fur. “I’m with my pup now. How about you?”

"Funny you say that. I'm actually with my dogs right now, too," Ramsay said with concealed amusement, glancing over at his pack of Cane Corsos, all eagerly awaiting meal time. He held up a beef shank, laughing as they leaped up and barked. "They're hungry," he told Theon.

“You have Cane Corsos right? Hunting dogs?” Theon smiled at the thought of having another friend that lived with a ton of dogs. “I’d love to meet them sometime.”

"Yeah, nine of them," Ramsay said as he tossed meat into the kennel. "You'll have to come over, won't you?" The dogs crowded around the beef shank, snarling at each other, until he chucked another in, and a third until the dogs had split off and were happily munching on their dinner.

“Nine?!” Theon sounded excited, imagining so many dogs. He loved the Stark’s dogs, he imagined he’d love Ramsay’s as well. “My Queenie is just a little thing. She’d have to stay home if I came over, wouldn’t want her scaring your dogs," he teased.

"That would be for the best," Ramsay said seriously, turning away from his dogs. "They would probably tear her apart." He waited several seconds of Theon's horrified silence before adding, "I'm kidding! They're good girls. Sorry... My father always tells me I have a rotten sense of humor."

“Ramsay!” Theon exclaimed, staring down at his pup in shock. “That’s not funny.” Despite his words, he didn’t sound very angry about it. He could hear Ramsay’s dogs in the background, chewing on something. “I’m serious, though. I’d love to meet them.”

"Why don't you come over tomorrow and meet them, then?" Ramsay asked, smirking. "You can even feed them, if you want to. They're quite fun at mealtimes."

“Yeah, sure!” Theon agreed, sound a bit more enthusiastic than he had intended. He honestly just wanted an excuse to be out of the Stark house for a bit. “Could I come home with you? Like, after school?”

"Of course you can. If you want, I'll even pick you up," Ramsay said temptingly. "You won't have to ride with all the kids."

That was a very appealing offer. “I- yeah- well,” he remembered Catelyn’s reaction when he’d told her about Ramsay. He laughed a bit nervously. “I don’t know if Mrs. Stark would be very happy about that.”

Though Theon couldn't see, Ramsay pulled a face. "Of course she wouldn't be," he said nastily. "She doesn't like my family very much."

“Why?” Theon blurted out. “Wait, sorry, that was rude. I probably shouldn’t have asked that.”

"No, it's okay. My father is a politician, and he worked with Ned Stark. My father and Catelyn had a bit of a, let's say, spat," Ramsay said, grinning to himself. "He did some things she didn't necessarily like and she took it so personally. I guess she never got over it."

“Oh.” Theon frowned. “Well, fuck that. You didn’t do anything. If you could pick me up tomorrow, that’d be amazing. What’s she gonna do about it? Lecture me?”

"It's not like she's your mother," Ramsay said, laughing. "I'll be there at 7:30."

“Sounds perfect.” Theon’s frown quickly turned into a smile and he laughed a little as Queenie scrambled up to lick at his face. “I think Queenie would like to meet you.”

"I think I would like to meet Queenie. How about we bring her with tomorrow? I think she would like school," Ramsay chuckled.

“She can’t come to school, Ramsay!” Theon laughed. “You can meet her when you pick me up, if you want.”

"Sure she can. It's not like you go to class anyways, and besides... Who's going to stop us?" he pointed out.

“I don’t want her to be scared, and anyway, then we’d have to go back to my house after school before yours to drop her off.” He gave Queenie a little kiss on the nose, earning him a couple licks.

"My dogs stay outside most of the time," Ramsay said with a shrug. "If it's too cold, they have an inside kennel. She would be fine to come over as long as she stayed in my room."

“I wanna meet your dogs, and she doesn’t like being alone. I’m leaving her at home, but I’ll bring her out for you to meet before we leave, okay?” Theon smiled, making kissy faces at the pup.

"Are you blowing me kisses?" Ramsay teased, hearing the sound of it. "So soon into our relationship?"

Theon felt his face flush and laughed, earning a confused look from Queenie. “I was making faces at Queenie, but I appreciate your eagerness.” He momentarily thought of Robb when Ramsay mentioned the word ‘relationship,’ a painful twitch in his heart, but he brushed it away.

"Whatever you say," Ramsay said liltingly. "I have to go, my dad just got home and he sounds angry. See you tomorrow, Theon."

“Bye!” Theon pouted at Queenie before adding as an afterthought, “I’ll text you!” before Ramsay hung up. He placed his phone down on the nightstand, sitting up more on the bed and looking down at the Pomeranian on his lap. “I think my new friend is gonna like you.”

Queenie yipped in agreement, settling into a furry ball on his lap. A moment later, there was a knock on Theon's door.

“Come in!” Theon called, laughing when Queenie leaped off the bed and ran to the door to see who it was.

Arya stepped in, looking younger and more vulnerable than she had looked in years. "Are you busy? Can I talk to you?"

He sat up straight, nodding quickly and patting the bed next to him. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?” The look on her face worried him. Even at Ned’s funeral, she’d looked angry and strong.

"Do you know where Jon went?" she asked, sitting down heavily. "He told me he'd visit, and that he would call when he was settled somewhere, but he hasn't called yet and it's been a week."

“I... have an idea of where he could be. I mean, who he’d be with. I’m not sure where exactly.” Theon frowned, picking his phone back up. Ygritte had added her number to his contacts while he was asleep after the threesome. “I can call some to try and find out, if you’d like?”

"Could you?" she asked, eyes round and sad. "I... I've never had to live without him before," she admitted.

“Yeah, of course.” He reached out to muss up her hair before hitting the button to call Ygritte, putting the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Theon," she purred, picking up on the second ring. "Ready for round two already? Hehe, I thought we had tired you out."

“Ygritte, no, that’s not why I’m calling.” His voice was even and serious. “It’s about Jon. Arya really misses him, and he hasn’t contacted her at all.”

"He hasn't?" Ygritte said, sounding angry. "Hey, Jon, get your ass over here! You haven't called your sister?" The low sound of Jon's voice could barely be heard, but whatever he said, Ygritte didn't like it. "No, you get on the phone right now and talk to her!"

Obliging, Jon took the phone. "Arya?"

Theon offered her a small smile and handed her the phone.

"Jon?" Arya asked, rising from the bed and walking several paces away. "Where are you? You said you would call me when you got settled, and then you didn't say anything to me at dad's funeral... I thought..." She paused and nodded along to whatever he was saying. "Okay. I'll let mom know. See you tomorrow, Jon." She hung up and handed Theon his phone back, looking solemn. "Thank you."

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Theon placed his phone back down on the bed.

"He's a dumbass," Arya explained, rolling her eyes. "He thought he shouldn't talk to me anymore, like he's not allowed to or something."

“He really is an idiot.” Theon snorted, giving Arya a gentle pat on the back. “Do you feel better now?”

"Yeah. I'm going to see him tomorrow, he's picking me up from school," Arya said with a hint of a smile.

“That’s great, Ary. I’m happy for you.” He said with a genuine smile. “I hate to ask you to leave, but I have some homework to do, I’ll see you at dinner, okay? And if Jon ever ghosts you again, let me know.” He winked as she left the room, closing the door behind her, and grabbed his phone to text Ramsay.


	20. Chapter 20

Theon did not sleep through his alarm for once, knowing that Catelyn waking him up two minutes before they left wouldn’t help him get to Ramsay’s car on time. He got ready fairly quickly, smiling down at Queenie as she yipped at him.

He heard Arya yell “Who the hell is in the driveway?” from downstairs, and he scooped up Queenie quickly and ran. It was only 7:25, he wasn’t expecting Ramsay to be early. He gave the Starks at the breakfast an apologetic shrug before heading out the door barefoot, smiling when he saw Ramsay leaning against the outside of his car.

“Hey! I brought Queenie!”

Ramsay smiled at him, looking at the bundle of fluff in his arms. “She’s adorable. May I hold her?”

Theon nodded, passing Queenie over to him and laughing when she sniffed intensely at Ramsay. “I guess she smells the other dogs, huh?”

"Or the meat. I fed my girls before I left," Ramsay said, stroking Queenie's little head.

The curtain moved in one of the kitchen windows and Robb's face appeared, unseen by Theon, but Ramsay smirked playfully at him. Robb glowered at them and yanked the curtain back in place.

"Who is it?" Catelyn asked. He gave her a pointed look and her face fell. "Oh. Robb, you really should talk to him. Try and warn him, before anything happens."

"I will," Robb promised, not knowing exactly how difficult that was going to be.

Theon dropped Queenie back off inside, put on shoes, and grabbed his backpack. The ride to school was uneventful, with Theon talking to Ramsay and Ramsay mostly just listening and nodding. His first class was chemistry with Qyburn, which Ramsay also had. Theon couldn’t remember him having been in that class before, but he didn’t question it.

Robb was already at his seat so Theon reluctantly sat next to him, relieved when Ramsay pulled up a chair as well. Robb shot Ramsay a thoroughly unfriendly look, which shifted to a scowl when Ramsay grinned at him. Robb opened his mouth to try and speak to Theon, but seeing this, Ramsay immediately swooped in.

"So what are we doing, Theon?" Ramsay asked, pulling the lab packet towards himself so he could look at it.

Theon scooted closer toward Ramsay, leaning over the packet to read it. “I don’t know. I’m shit at chem.” He pouted, completely ignoring Robb to his right.

Rather than ask Robb, who did seem to have a decent grasp on what the assignment was, Ramsay shrugged and dropped the packet back to the table. "Oh, well," he said. "What do you want to do, then?"

Robb stared at them both in disbelief, test tubes in hand. They were testing chemical reactions— Theon's favorite thing to do. He didn't want to?

Theon laughed, not even so much as looking at Robb. “There’s plenty of things I want to do, but we’re in class right now, so I can’t do any of them.” His heart was twisting painfully in his chest. He could feel Robb’s eyes on him, he knew Robb was right there, but he refused to look. Robb was the one who wanted him gone. Robb was the one who fucked him then refused to talk to him, who used him to get off a couple times then left him alone in bed. Robb who made him feel like a stupid whore after Theon said he loved him.

Theon made sure none of the hurt showed in his expression, and he made sure not to look at Robb even slightly.

After a long moment, Robb tore his gaze away from Theon and looked down at the table, fuming. He knew he had no right to be. This was his own fault, after all. He had taken advantage of Theon, and had hurt him infinitely more than any pain he himself was feeling right now.

But Ramsay... He didn't care if Theon was still hurting, he didn't care if he needed to keep his distance from him. He needed to get Ramsay away from Theon as soon as possible. Ramsay was still looking at him, still smirking, and he wanted to punch that look right off his nasty face.

"Keep them in mind, Theon. We can always do them after school," Ramsay said.

“What’re you smiling about?” Theon teased. “It’s a good look on you, I’m not complaining.”

He looked at Ramsay and those icy blue eyes and then, suddenly, Theon’s brain finally put two and two together. The shock of the realization showed on his face and his eyes widened almost comically. Those piercing blue eyes, those strong arms, that voice. Those lips and calloused hands. His cheeks slowly flushed pink but he quickly looked back down at the paper.

Ramsay's own eyes narrowed as Theon's widened, and he turned his smirk to Theon. He leaned in and whispered, "Oh? Do you remember me now?"

Theon felt chills run down his spine as he looked back to Ramsay, feeling those eyes piercing into his soul. He didn’t feel scared, no, just a bit unnerved. Maybe even a bit turned on from the way Ramsay was looking at him. “Yeah.” He murmured back, nodding slowly. “Drowned fuck.”

"Mmm," Ramsay hummed, still just quiet enough for only Theon to hear. "I was wondering when you would. I had been growing impatient." He leaned back, as though nothing had transpired between them, and turned to Robb. "Hand me that lithium bottle, will you?"

“Fuck,” Theon repeated quietly to himself. It was the worst possible time he could’ve remembered, feeling heat prickling at his skin and heating up his face. His mind played out vivid memories of how Ramsay’s hands felt on him, how he felt inside him, thick and hard and plowing him into the mattress. He swallowed hard, trying to think of something else that wouldn’t give him a boner in first period chemistry. He tried to just focus on the chemicals. “So, uh, what do we have to do with this?”

"Looks like we're testing different chemical reactions," Ramsay said, observing as Robb scooped some lithium powder into a test tube, and the liquid inside turned pink.

"I could have told you that," Robb said sourly, wishing Ramsay would go away.

"But you didn't," Ramsay said with a grin.

“Thank you, Ramsay,” Theon said, shooting Robb a dirty look. He pulled the packet closer to himself and jotted down the results on one of the charts. He tried to focus on the pink color in the tube, not on his memory of Ramsay manhandling him, fingering him and fucking him and making him come untouched.

"Test whether it's basic or acidic," Robb said, handing Ramsay the pH papers.

"You're basic," Ramsay muttered, but did as he was told.

Theon snorted at Ramsay’s comment but didn’t say anything, taking notes on the lab packet when he tested the liquid. He quickly grew bored of it and stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t burn the classroom down while I’m gone,” he announced to Robb and Ramsay before signing out and leaving the room.

Without a word to Ramsay, Robb stood up and followed after Theon, determined to get a chance to talk to him while Ramsay wasn't around. He signed out and rushed into the hall, tracking Theon down to the closest bathroom.

"Hey," he said, pushing the door open. "Thee? We need to talk."

Theon turned around. Robb had gotten there before he’d even had time to unbutton his pants. “Oh, you want to talk now? Thought you didn’t want to so much as look at me?”

Robb winced. "I didn't mean that. I shouldn't have said it... I'm sorry. Can you please just give me a chance to talk?"

“Fine.” Theon snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then go ahead, Stark. Talk.”

Theon had never called him Stark before. Robb stared at him, stunned at just how much that hurt, and it showed in his eyes. "It's about Ramsay," he began slowly.

“Oh, is it? Let me guess,” Theon’s voice was sharp as a knife, and the pure hurt and anger in his eyes was clear to see. Every word he spoke hurt him, but he wasn’t going to let Robb hurt him instead. “You’re mad that I have someone to talk to other than you? Mad that I’m not pining over you, is that it? Did you want to fuck me again?” His voice cracked. “Guess what, Stark? Ramsay fucked me before you ever did, so don’t think you have some kind of claim on me.”

"I know he did," Robb said. "I knew who you were talking about when you told me. I was hoping he would stay away from you after that, but clearly he didn't. Theon, he's dangerous. Really dangerous. He's bad for you," he tried to warn him, taking a hesitant step towards Theon.

Theon’s eyes flashed dangerously. Robb knew? He knew the whole time? “Oh, he’s bad for me? He’s bad for me? Is that why you’re waiting to tell me until now? Well, Stark, I think you’re saying this so I come running back to you. Don’t you ever fucking dare tell me someone is bad for me after what you fucking did. Don’t you fucking dare. You’re the one who’s bad for me, Robb, and you can’t even fucking tell me I’m wrong.” His voice had risen to a higher volume, sounding desperate and hurt, and he gave Robb one last scalding look before storming out of the bathroom.

"Theon!" Robb called desperately, but the door had slammed shut and Theon was gone. "Fuck!" he cursed, punching the wall. "Fuck! I... You need to listen to me." Theon was long gone, though, back to class by this point and surely chatting away happily with that Bolton bastard, unknowing. He wouldn't be going back to class; he couldn't bear to witness it.

Chemistry didn’t last long after that, and Theon practically clung to Ramsay for the rest of the day day, making sure he was extra close whenever Robb was around. Ramsay seemed to be in a lot of his classes that Theon had never seen him in before, but he figured he just wasn’t very observant. At the end of the day, he found himself walking out the doors at the same time as Robb. He didn’t so much as look at him, talking loudly as they walked to Ramsay’s car, blushing when he opened the door for him.

Coincidentally, Robb had parked two spaces over from them, and as he was opening his car door, he was almost bowled over by an enormous, overly-excited white dog.

"What the— Ghost!" Robb cried, falling to his knees and hugging Ghost. "Where did you come from?" But Ghost wasn't done. He raced away from Robb and towards Theon, barking to capture his attention.

Jon was running across the parking lot, exasperated, while Ygritte and Arya were roaring with laughter beside Ygritte's Jeep.

Theon, who had literally just sat down, practically leaped back up out of the car to see Ghost. “There’s the good boy! I’ve missed you!” he cooed, reaching to scratch his ears.

Ghost leaned happily into the scratches, but the moment Ramsay reached down to pet him, Ghost bared his teeth and growled. Ramsay drew his hand back, almost surprised, and Ghost followed him.

"I don't think he likes me," Ramsay laughed, backing away from the snarling dog. Jon caught up to him then, seizing Ghost by the collar.

"Ghost, come on, say hi to Theon and let's go," Jon coaxed. He gave Ramsay a cold look, knowing full well who he was. Ghost refused to budge, staring at Ramsay, still showing his teeth, and blocking him from getting near Theon.

“Ghost!” Theon gasped, looking down at him in shock. “I’m sorry Ramsay, I don’t know why...” He trailed off with a frown, leaning down to give Ghost a gentle kiss on the head. “Nice to see you again Jon, Ygritte.” He nodded before getting back into the car.

Without breaking eye contact, Ramsay backed away from Ghost and moved around to the other side of the car. "Bye, doggie," he said tauntingly, and Ghost barked furiously as Ramsay climbed into his car.

"Come on, Ghost. Let it go for now," Jon said, surly. He dragged Ghost away, back to Robb, and the two of them glanced back at Ramsay's car, pulling out of the parking space. "He's hanging around Bolton now?"

"Yeah," Robb said. "He won't let me talk to him about it." He stared after the car as it drove away, conflicted.

Jon patted his shoulder. "He'll come around. If nothing else, he'll see sense soon enough. Ramsay can't play nice forever." He looked pointed at Robb, before saying goodbye and leading Ghost back to Ygritte's Jeep. "Ready, Arya?" he asked as Ghost hopped inside.

Robb was still watching the car, however, as it pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the road. He knew Ramsay couldn't play nice. That's what he was worried about– he didn't want Theon to get caught in the crossfire.

“I’m so sorry about Ghost, I don’t know what got into him. He’s always been kind of protective, he used to hate me.” Theon offered Ramsay an apologetic smile. Ghost’s reaction has unnerved him, but then again, Ghost had acted cold toward him before. It was just because Ramsay was a stranger.

"Who knows? Maybe he smelled something on me," Ramsay said jokingly. He didn't seem to care much about the fact that a huge wolfdog had just wanted to rip his face off. "Maybe he knows more than you."

“You smell like nine other dogs.” Theon laughed, looking fondly over at Ramsay. He was thriving with not only the attention he was getting, but also with the fact that he knew Robb was jealous. Robb hurt him, and now Robb got to be hurt back.

"He should be used to other dogs, shouldn't be? The Starks have a whole pack of them," Ramsay said. "He's just a smart dog, trying to protect you from me, and whatever I might do to you." He glanced at Theon, grinning. "And who knows what that might be?"

“Oh?” Theon raised an eyebrow, voice lowering. “And what do you plan on doing to me, Mr. Bolton?”

"Anything I want to... How does that sound?" Ramsay asked. "I promise... It's all very fun."

“I suppose I’ll have to trust you then.” Theon grinned, his pants feeling just a bit tighter around his groin. He kept his voice low as he continued to speak. “But what is it that you want to do to me?”

"Make you scream," Ramsay said at once. "So much. I loved the noises you made when I fucked you before... I want to draw out more of those."

Theon made a soft sound at that, leaning back in his seat. His mind was replaying that night again, Ramsay’s hands and his cock... His pants felt even tighter. “Well then, I hope you’re able to.”

"Trust me," Ramsay purred. "I am. You'll be screaming my name as long as I want you to be." His grip tightened on the steering wheel, delightful images in his head.

Theon groaned, pulling his backpack from the floor onto his lap to hide the bulge in his pants that was growing more obvious by the second. “How far to your house now?” He looked over to him.

"Just a couple of minutes. You don't remember?" Ramsay asked teasingly, passing the Dreadfort gas station.

Theon’s face flushed. “Well, to be fair, I wasn’t really paying attention to the directions when I came here last time.” He glanced at the gas station where Robb had picked him up and tried to ignore the way his chest ached at the thought.

"Of course not. You were coming to get drunk and fucked," Ramsay chuckled slyly. "Have you been thinking about it? I have."

Theon nodded, shifting in his seat. “I’ve been thinking about it too much, I think. I actually-“ He laughed a bit nervously, not sure how Ramsay would react to the next thing he said. “I was a virgin.”

"Were you? You haven't fucked the Young Wolf yet?" Ramsay asked in slight surprise. "I'm new and even I thought there was something going on there."

“I mean, I have, but you were my first.” He glanced over to Ramsay. “I wish I hadn’t fucked Robb. I mean, with you, it was a one night stand and we didn’t know each other. Robb and I have known each other forever. He used me for sex.”

Theon grimaced, his heart twisting and aching.

“And then- you won’t believe this- when I went to the bathroom earlier he tried to tell me you were bad for me. After he used me for sex and ignored me for days, he tried to tell me that you would be bad for me.”

"He used you for sex?" Ramsay said, sounding outraged, but masking his amusement. "When was this?"

“New Years Eve,” Theon said with a groan, appreciating that Ramsay sounded angry as well.

"Wasn't that his dad's funeral?" Ramsay scoffed. "Gods, that's a little... And he said I was bad for you? Did he say why he thought that?"

“He said you’re dangerous. He said—" Theon paused, feeling a wave of anger pulse through him. “He fucking knew, after that one night stand, he knew that it was you I slept with, but he didn’t fucking tell me.”

"Oh, you told him about us?" Ramsay was genuinely surprised at this; he hadn't thought Theon would have told anyone, especially not Robb Stark. "He's biased, too, because of his parents and my father."

“He picked me up from the Dreadfort after I left your house. He’s my- he was my best friend, so I told him basically everything.” Theon’s cheeks flushed red. “Didn’t your dad work for his dad? Why wouldn’t he like you?”

"It's a long story," Ramsay said, "and my house is just up ahead, so... No time." He pulled into the driveway of a desolate gray house, and already the sound of barking could be heard from the backyard.

The house was huge for just two people, and Theon stared at it with wide eyes. He could hear the dogs barking, and he turned to smile brightly at Ramsay. “Your house is massive.”

"We have a lot of guest bedrooms," Ramsay said cryptically. "Come meet my girls!"

Theon happily followed Ramsay into the house, a bit unnerved by how empty it seemed, but he didn’t have much time to look around as Ramsay was leading him out the backdoor. There were nine Cane Corsos in front of them within seconds, having run over from the other end of the yard, and Theon laughed aloud at how ridiculous it looked. Nine big dogs, all barking and trying to get Ramsay’s attention. They didn’t seem to be wary of Theon, either, and he was pleased when one of them started licking at his hand. “They’re gorgeous, Ramsay,” he said in awe, and they truly were beautiful dogs.

"This is Helicent, and these two here are Red Jeyne and Grey Jeyne, then there's Jez and Alison, and Mauda, Sara, and Willow, and the littlest one is Nine,” Ramsay said happily. If there was one thing he was proud of, one thing he truly loved, it was his girls.

Nine was the one licking his hand, and when Theon knelt down in front of her, she tried to lick his face. She seemed like the youngest of the nine, the smallest- but she was still way bigger than his Queenie. “They’re amazing, really.” He sounded awed, laughing again when the two Jeynes came closer and started sniffing him intently.

"They like you," Ramsay remarked. "They don't tend to like a whole lot of people. You must be special." He looked down at the young one that seemed to like Theon so much. "The rescue had named her Lydia- terrible name for a dog. She's Nine, right now, until we pick a name."

“They’re such sweet girls. Yes you are, you’re all good girls,” Theon cooed, happy with all the dogs gathering around him.

Ramsay crouched down so the dog nearest him, Helicent, could lick his face. "They're the best girls. Besides yours, of course."

“I love them.” Theon turned to Ramsay, lopsided smile bright on his face. “They’re so soft, too.”

"They get brushed every day," Ramsay bragged, "and bathed every other week. Want to take them inside with me?"

“Yeah!” Theon stood up, happy to follow Ramsay into the house with the dogs. It seemed a lot less bland and empty with them there, sniffing and wiggling and walking around.

"It's mostly just me living here," Ramsay lied smoothly. "The girls have indoor kennels for nighttime and for colder days. My room this this way," he said, leading him.

Theon kept petting Nine, finding it funny when she followed him. He walked up two sets of stairs and down the hall, following Ramsay into a room with a small living area and what seemed to be a bathroom. There was another staircase in the center of that room which he followed Ramsay up.

"My father let me have my pick of the tower bedrooms," Ramsay said. "This is it!"

“Wow.” Theon stood at the top of the stairs, looking around the room. The walls were octagonal, which was expected for a tower bedroom. Behind him, the wall facing the top of the staircase had a large mirror covering it. The bed was placed directly opposite the top of the staircase, pillows and blankets, headboard and bed frame all black. There were three large windows on different sides of the wall, covered by sheer pink curtains. There was a dresser on one side and a desk on the other, a few sparse decorations on the red walls. The floor was a cold black wood. It all was so very Ramsay, and Theon was amused by it. “Did you decorate it yourself?”

"Yup, all my myself. My father gave me a budget and I did the rest." He sat down on the bed, looking intensely at Theon. "Most of it went towards the bed, and especially the mattress."

Theon smirked and walked over to sit down next to Ramsay. “I hope you put it to good use, then.”

"Trust me," he said. "I do. You should know from experience... even if it wasn't this particular bed."

“Oh?” Theon scooted a little closer so their thighs were touching. “Then what bed did you fuck me in?”

"My father's," Ramsay said with a snicker. "He wasn't home for several days after that anyways... I had the sheets washed, don't worry."

“You fucked me in your dad’s bed?” Theon stammered, face flushing. “Drowned God, Ramsay, you probably got come all over it.”

"Yes, of course I did. That'd why I had the sheets washed," Ramsay said matter-of-factly.

“Do you hate your dad or something?” Theon kicked off his shoes and laid back on the bed, making himself comfortable.

"No," Ramsay said. "He hated me, though. I'm technically a bastard, you know, but he says that he might recognize me if I'm behave while I'm here."

Theon vaguely remembered saying the word ‘bastard’ when Ramsay was fucking him, and how it made him stop. He grimaced. “That’s kind of shitty. You’re still his son, bastard or not.”

"Well, he raped my mother," Ramsay said, shrugging. "I was a bit of a surprise to the both of them. He had a true son, Domeric, but he died."

“Drowned God, Ramsay, I’m sorry.” He sat back up, his thigh resting against Ramsay’s once again. “If it makes it any better, I’m glad that surprise happened. You, I mean.”

"Me too!" he said brightly, not seeming too bothered by the topic of his mother's rape. "It put me here, and I think I've had a fun life so far, so I'm not complaining."

Theon stared at him, looking into those ice blue eyes and sighing. Blue. Robb’s eyes were blue, but soft and like the sky where Ramsay’s were sharp and like ice. “You’re very handsome,” he noted, taking in the unique angles of Ramsay’s face. His face was more square where Robb’s was angular, the stubble along his jaw darker than Robb’s. Ramsay looked nothing like Robb, and for that, Theon was thankful. “Did you know that?”

"I've been told," Ramsay said slowly, gazing back at him. "But I like it when you tell me. It's more... genuine."

Heat curled in the pit of Theon’s stomach but he did his best to ignore it. The way Ramsay looked at him made him feel weird- sometimes aroused, sometimes unnerved. “It’s because I mean it.” His voice lowered just a bit.

"What would you say then, if I told you that you're very pretty?" His eyes raked over Theon's face, from his dirty blond curls to his wide blue-green eyes, down to his lips, chapped with cold but still pink and kissable. Ramsay leaned in, eyes slipping half-shut, only to stand up the moment Theon moved toward him.

Theon whined low in his throat when Ramsay moved and he felt no lips against his own. He pouted up at Ramsay, feeling vaguely hurt but hiding it well. “I’d say you’re a tease.”

Ramsay was at the window, pulling the curtain aside to look outside. A light flashed and dragged over the window pane. "And I'd say you need to leave. Come on, I'll take you home."

He kept pouting but stood up anyway with a loud sigh. “Okay, fine.” He took one last look around the room before putting his shoes back on and following Ramsay down the stairs.

"Hate to rush you out, but something just came up," Ramsay said as he dashed down the stairs, skipping every other step.

Theon hurried after him, a bit confused and curious as to why Ramsay was suddenly so rushed. “Ramsay,” He whined.

"Shh," Ramsay said, throwing an arm out to stop Theon and gesturing for him to wait quietly. The door opened and a man walked in, and Ramsay went to meet him while Theon remained concealed on the staircase. They had a minute of hushed conversation before the man nodded and strode off down the hall, and Ramsay returned for Theon.

"Come on," he said again, quietly.

Theon’s brows furrowed but he did, not speaking again until they were in the car. He looked over to Ramsay as he shut the door. “What- uh- what just happened?”

"Nothing," Ramsay said rather unhelpfully. "Don't worry about it." He peeled out of the driveway, speeding off down the road with no regard for stop signs or basic rules of the road.

“Ramsay, Drowned fuck!” Theon exclaimed, grabbing hold of the ‘oh-shit’ bar on the roof of the car. “You’re gonna fuckin’ crash!”

"No, I won't," he said as he revved up to 56mph on the 35mph road, twisting around a sharp corner. "I'm good at this."

“You need to slow down!” Theon scolded, turning to give him a dirty look. “What the fuck, dude, did you kill a person or something?”

"Of course not!" Ramsay scoffed. "I'm getting you home in a time-efficient manner."

“Time efficient?” Theon’s voice raised up an octave. “Ramsay, please!” He pleased, not at all enjoying the speed.

"Relax, Theon. Police don't tend to bother me." They blew past McDavos's, signalling that they were already halfway to the Stark house. "I promise you, I am a good driver."

“It’s making me nervous,” Theon whined, blue-green eyes wide and pleading as he looked at Ramsay.

"Close your eyes," he advised, spinning the wheel and turning off the main road onto North Street, where the Starks lived.

“Ramsay,” Theon kept looking at him, feeling rather aggravated that he wasn’t listening to him.

"Theon," Ramsay replied calmly, tires screeching as he braked hard in front off the Stark's house. He backed up, slid into the driveway, and parked. "You're... home," he said distastefully, looking up at the house.

Theon frowned at him. “Honestly, Ramsay, what the fuck?”

"Got you here fast, didn't it?" Ramsay said. "Sorry, Theon, but I have something to attend to, so if you could.."

Theon took a deep breath but nodded, his expression turning worried before he opened the door to the car. “Okay, okay. Is everything alright?”

"Yes, everything's fine," Ramsay assured him. "I'll see you tomorrow, Theon."

Theon sighed but opened the door, making sure to grab his bag as he did. “Bye, Ramsay. See you.” He leaned over, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before getting out of the car, shutting the door, and heading into the house.

Ramsay watched him go before reversing out of the driveway and peeling off back down the road.

"You're home late," Catelyn said, looking up from her seat as Theon entered the living room. "Though, Arya isn't home yet..." She sighed, turning her head to stare out the window.

“I was with Ramsay.” Theon offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mrs. Stark. And I’m sure Arya will be home soon. I can call Jon or Ygritte, if you want?”

"No, it's okay. I know he's responsible," she said, albeit reluctantly. "You said you were with Ramsay?"

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I got to meet his dogs. They were beautiful, Mrs. Stark, there was nine of them. They really liked me.” As if she knew he was talking of other dogs, Queenie ran into the room and jumped at him, yipping excitedly.

"Theon, please promise me you'll be careful around him," Catelyn said. "I can't tell you who you can and can't be friends with, but please just keep your guard up, okay?"

“He’s really nice, Mrs. Stark. And funny.” He scooped up Queenie, making kissy faces and laughing when she went crazy trying to lick him. “I’m fine, trust me, but thank you.”

She gave him a look, but said nothing further, watching as Theon and Queenie left the room. Catelyn looked back out the window, waiting.

"They always listened to you, Ned," she murmured. "I miss you."


	21. Chapter 21

Another week and a half passed and Theon hadn’t talked to Robb at all. He’d been hanging out with Ramsay a lot. Sometimes he did things that made Theon worried or confused, but he was still so nice and funny most of the time, and he took Theon’s mind off of all his hurt over Robb. Ramsay had been driving him to and from school basically every day, and Theon felt smug every time he caught Robb’s aggravated expression.

He and Ramsay were skipping classes for most of the day, talking and smoking and avoiding all their schoolwork. They didn’t actually go to any classes until right before lunch, and during lunch they sat at the same table.

Robb, who used to sit with Theon, now sat at a table with Jon, Ygritte, and a couple of Ygritte's friends. He didn't know if he had ever been lonelier; Theon had been his constant companion since he was seven years old, and now he had lost him. He didn't have long to ponder this, though, as a petite brunette suddenly hugged him from behind.

"Robb!" Jeyne wailed. She was tanned and newly back from a vacation in Dorne. "I'm so sorry, Robb! I just heard when I got home last night!"

"Hi, Jeyne. Thank you..."

Jeyne sat down next to Robb, speaking raptly to him, and Ramsay watched from their table, eyes glinting with amusement.

"She just found out? Does she not know how to check the news?"

“She’s always been a dumb whore,” Theon replied, leaning slightly against Ramsay’s side as he looked over at Robb and Jeyne, trying not to make it obvious. “She’s rather plain looking, too. I’ve met a lot of girls named Jeyne in my life, and she might be the worst.” He took a sip of his water and pretended not to care.

"My Jeynes are better," Ramsay agreed. He caught the burning jealousy in Theon's eyes and scowled, turning away. "You have to admit, they do look good together. A wolf and his bitch."

“A wolf and his bitch, you’re right about that.” Theon scoffed, hoping Ramsay couldn’t tell he was jealous. He reached out to place a hand on one of Ramsay’s arms. “I think we look better together than they do, personally.”

"Yeah?" Ramsay asked, shooting him a disgruntled look. "You don't think you'd look better with Stark?"

Theon was a bit surprised at the remark, a bit hurt, but he quickly hid it. “Fuck no. I look better with you. I... feel... better with you.” He glanced up and down Ramsay’s body as best he could while sitting at a table.

"Yeah?" Ramsay looked down at him, a smirk spreading over his lips. "Then why do you keep staring at him?"

“To see if he’s staring at us,” Theon said smoothly after a moment of hesitation.

"What would you do if he was?" Ramsay retorted.

Theon froze for a moment before huffing, crossing his arms. “Come on, Ramsay, do we have to keep talking about him?”

"Do we?" Ramsay challenged, holding Theon's gaze for several moments before turning back to the table, away from Theon and away from Robb.

“Ramsay!” Theon whined, wrapping his slender arms around one of Ramsay’s muscular ones. “Ramsay, come on!”

"I just think that you deserve better than to be pining over him," Ramsay huffed.

“I’m not pining.” Theon insisted, scooting closer to Ramsay on the bench. “I’m not! I’m just... curious sometimes.”

"Okay," said Ramsay, but in that certain tone of voice that told his disbelief. "Eat your calzone, it's going to get cold."

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Theon teased, trying to lighten the mood, but he let go of Ramsay’s arm and went back to eating.

Jeyne seemed to make it her personal mission to stay as close to Robb's side as possible for the rest of the day— especially when Theon was within eyesight. No matter how annoyed Robb looked by it, Jeyne clung to his arm all the way down the hallway between classes, and was practically salivating over him during choir. Ramsay found it to be greatly amusing, pointing it out to Theon every chance he got.

“She’s drooling over him like a bitch in heat,” Theon stated at one point, loud enough for her to hear, which earned him a very dirty look from her. He made sure not to let any more jealousy show on his face, lest Ramsay catch on.

"Robb," Jeyne whined, catching his attention. He turned to face her, and she immediately leaned up to kiss him. Robb stood still, frozen with shock, while Jeyne's hands held his face.

Theon saw Jeyne kiss Robb and felt a million different emotions at once. He wanted to scream. He was boiling with anger, heart twisting with hurt and jealousy. He didn’t care if Ramsay could see how he was feeling. All he cared was that Robb was able to see when he leaned in and kissed Ramsay- hard. It wasn’t at all how Jeyne kissed Robb, soft and gentle. The kiss was angry, desperate, and Theon felt triumphant when Ramsay’s lips moved against his own.

Ramsay chuckled, turned and pushing Theon back against the wall, dominating the kiss. Across the hall, Jeyne had released Robb and the two of them were looking over at them, Jeyne with amusement, and Robb with the utmost horror.

Theon moaned softly into the kiss, arms draping over Ramsay’s shoulders. His skin felt hot and rage and adrenaline pulled through his veins, and he wanted more. He nipped at Ramsay’s lower lip, not much caring that they were in a school hallway.

Robb turned on his heel and walked away, his heart pounding. What was Theon thinking? He was going to get himself hurt. Jeyne was running after him, probably looking to hold his hand. She didn't get it. He prickled with annoyance, but slowly let his arm fall slack, and she seized upon the opportunity, grabbing his hand and walking along next to him, looking happier than he had ever seen her.

"Hey, break it up, you two!" A kid laughed, clapping Ramsay on the back as he walked by. "You're in public."

Theon laughed a little bit they broke the kiss. He looked a bit dazed as he stared into those ice-blue eyes. “Ramsay,” he murmured, kiss-swollen lips curving up into a grin, “Be my boyfriend?”

"I'll be your everything," Ramsay vowed. He bit back a grin and instead leaned down to kiss Theon again, briefly.

Theon was happy for the kiss, arms still over Ramsay’s shoulders. “Do we have to go to class? Can we skip?”

"Whatever you want," Ramsay said. "We can leave right now, if you wish."

“Please,” Theon nodded eagerly. His whole face was bright and flushed and he looked elated, the excitement of having a boyfriend and of being so wanted overpowering the aching in his chest.

"Let's go, then," Ramsay said, taking Theon by the hand and leading him outside. "Where do you want to go first?"

“Anywhere.” Theon was looking at Ramsay as if he were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. “Wherever. I don’t care if we go to a damn junkyard as long as you’re there.”

"How about we just drive, and we'll figure something out?" Ramsay said, opening the car door for Theon.

Theon smiled brightly and got in, speaking again once Ramsay was in the car as well. “We could go to Davos’s Pizza and Pasta?” he suggested.

"Fine by me," Ramsay said, hurriedly starting up the car. Principle Stannis was running out the doors, coming towards them.

"You can't just leave in the middle of the school day!" he was shouting, but they were already driving away.

Theon couldn’t stop smiling for the first time in a while, and he was watching Ramsay most of the drive, talking a bit and laughing at each other’s jokes. When they got out of the car at Davos’s, Ramsay took his hand. Theon noted how his hands were thick and calloused, bigger than his own, and he didn’t mind at all.

"Two, please," Ramsay said to the hostess. She gave him the kind of look he was used to getting, the kind that said she knew exactly who he was, but said nothing other than the typical friendly greeting and led them to a quiet booth in the corner of the restaurant.

“I don’t like how she looked at you,” Theon stated quietly once they were seated across from each other and the hostess had walked away.

"A lot of people dislike my father," Ramsay said with a shrug. "I'm far used to it by now."

“You’re not your father.” Theon reached over to hold Ramsay’s hand on the table. “Whatever he did that makes people so angry, it wasn’t you. And I haven’t met him, but I’m sure you’re much more handsome and charming than he is,” he teased.

"My father is very... influential," Ramsay said with a slight laugh. "You'll see, when you meet him. He's a hard man to like, but he's my father." He picked up the menu, browsing the entrees.

Theon let go of his hand to look through the menu as well, though he already knew he was just going to get pizza and fries. The waitress came over after a few minutes and asked if they were ready. Theon looked over at Ramsay, checking if he was before speaking.

“I’ll have water, please, and an order of fries. Also— do you by chance have mutton pizza?”

The waitress looked at him like he was crazy.

"Um, no, sorry sir, we don't have mutton," she said. "Would you like a different kind of topping?"

“Just a small cheese then, please,” he said with a smile before looking over to Ramsay.

"Make that a medium cheese, and a water and another order of fries," Ramsay said, handing her back the menus politely.

"All right, two plates of fries and a medium cheese... Coming right up. I'll be right back with your drinks." She smiled at them both and strolled off.

Theon smiled brightly at his new boyfriend. “We’re eating the same thing then, huh?” He teased.

"I thought you had good taste," Ramsay shrugged. "You're with me, after all. Am I wrong?"

Theon laughed, bright and genuine. “You’re not wrong. I have to agree with you, I do have good taste. You are the most handsome man in Winterfell.”

"No, I'm not," Ramsay said quietly, gazing intently at him. "You are."

Theon wasn’t normally shy and had no problems accepting compliments, but he could feel his cheeks flushing pink. When he spoke, his tone was playful. “I thought you said I was pretty?”

"You can be both," Ramsay reasoned. He stroked Theon's cheek, smiling when Theon leaned into the touch. 'Good boy,' he thought to himself.

Theon found he liked how Ramsay was touching him, making him feel more relaxed. Before he could say anything in response, the waitress came back with their drinks and fries and Theon reluctantly moved his head away from Ramsay’s touch before he happily began to eat.

Ramsay watched in amusement as Theon poured a liberal amount of ketchup on his plate. He had to admit, the fries were delicious. They were crispy coated and fried perfectly, but the best part about them was watching Theon eat them. His eyes fluttered shut with the first bite, and as he wolfed down his fries, his face exhibited more and more joy.

"Do you like them?" Ramsay teased.

Theon swallowed before looking back up at Ramsay and nodding. “They’re so good. I mean, I’ve had them before, but still.”

"Watching you eat them is better than the fries themselves, I think," Ramsay said. "It's like sex."

Theon snorted. “I hope it’s not that good, because I was hoping to have sex with you at some point, but if you’d rather watch me eat french fries...”

"No, no, I mean... Watching you while we fuck, I think, would be better than anything I could ever physically feel," he replied smoothly.

“Oh?” Theon was pleased by Ramsay’s response, pleased by Ramsay’s flattery. “Well let’s hope it happens soon, then.”

"Whenever you please," said Ramsay, lounging back in the booth. "There's a bathroom right over there, if you're desperate."

Theon laughed, his eyes bright and expression happy. “Ramsay! This is a restaurant, not some kind of cheap bar!” He scolded, but he sounded amused more than anything.

"If it's a cheap bar you want, we could always go to the Dreadfort. Gas station and bar: my family legacy," he scoffed. "It's especially cheap, since I drink for free."

“Or we could fuck in your bed, like normal people.” Theon teased, eyes lighting up again when the waitress came and set down the pizza, serving them each a slice on a plate.

Ramsay waited until she had gone again before leaning forward. "Are you sure? You seemed quite fond of my father's, last time."

“Ramsay!” Theon hissed, trying not to grin. “I didn’t know who’s bed it was. I’d rather it be yours.” He paused. “Maybe even open the windows so everyone in Winterfell can hear when you make me scream.”

"Trust me, you'll be screaming." Ramsay took a sip of his water. "But not tonight. How about Saturday? Then we can take the whole day."

“The whole day.” Theon nodded, shifting in his seat as his skin grew hot and desire began pooling in his gut. “That sounds perfect.” He bit into his slice, finishing it off rather quickly before getting another.

Ramsay picked up his slice, only now beginning it, having been so focused on Theon. "Saturday it is, then," he said before taking a bite.

Theon was distracted the whole rest of the time he was eating, thinking about spending the whole day in Ramsay’s bed— kissing and fucking, holding and being held. Before he knew it, they’d finished the pizza and the check was on the table in front of them.

Ramsay picked it up, sliding his card into the little plastic pocket and rising from the booth. "Sit tight, I'll be right back," he said.

“Okay.” Theon said with a smile, not realizing that Ramsay was paying until a moment later. His heart fluttered a bit in his chest. Ramsay was paying for him. How sweet. He didn’t understand why so many people disliked him so much, he’d never given Theon reason to worry that he was dangerous— except when he disobeyed the speed limit, but everyone did that.

Ramsay returned minutes later, smiling down at him. "Are you ready to go?"

Theon stood, taking Ramsay’s hand in his. “I’m ready if you are.”

He led Theon out to the car, opening the door for him as per usual, before getting into the car himself. "Shall I take you home?"

“I suppose so.” Theon said with a small sigh, looking affectionately over at his boyfriend.

Ramsay gave him a warm look and pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

Robb had a lot on his mind... and on his lap. He currently had his dog half curled in his lap, with Jeyne laying against him, playing with Queenie. Jeyne had been absolutely enamored with the little dog ever since she saw her in the living room, and there they were, an hour later, still in the living room so she could cuddle Queenie. Robb just hoped that Theon wouldn't be too angry about it, whenever he got home, because Queenie looked like she was having a fantastic time.

"Robb, she's so cute!" Jeyne giggled, kissing Queenie's little forehead. "I want one like her."

He offered her a faint smile. "Yeah? There might be more of her litter at the rescue still."

Jeyne gasped. "Oh, Robb, will you take me to look after class tomorrow?" He nodded an affirmative and she was beaming.

Really, he thought, Jeyne was sweet. She was kind and didn't expect too much from him, and was just happy with what he could give her, which admittedly wasn't much at the moment. He knew she liked him, and he didn't have much feelings for her beyond friendship, but maybe she would be good for him. He could grow to like her, he thought.

But Theon... He couldn't lie to himself. He knew he liked Theon, thought he may even love him, and it would be cruel and unfair to turn his back on that. ' _You already have_ ,' he chided himself. ' _You fucked it up before you gave it a chance_.' He had. Now Theon was kissing the Bolton bastard in the school hallway, and Robb didn't know what to do.

Theon was all bright eyes and smiles when he entered the Stark house, calling for his pup and heading into the living room to look for her. He froze, his expression turning cold when he saw Jeyne not only cuddled up against Robb, but cuddling his dog. He was at least pleased that Queenie squirmed out of Jeyne’s arms when she saw him, and he scooped her up as quick as she could. “Hello, Jeyne,” he said sharply. “I see you’ve met my dog.”

"Yes!" Jeyne cried, sitting up straight. "She's so cute! And she's the sweetest little thing in the world!"

“She is very sweet," Theon replied without a hint of emotion, shifting his steely gaze toward Robb. “I hate to break off what I’m sure would be an excellent conversation, but I’ve just gotten home from a date with my boyfriend.” He put a heavy emphasis on the word. "And Queenie and I have to do homework.”

"Good luck with your homework," Jeyne said, waving goodbye to Queenie. Robb met Theon's eyes, broken. Boyfriend. He was dating Ramsay Bolton. Robb had really, really fucked up.

Theon didn’t come back downstairs until it was time for dinner, which was a good few hours later. Robb now sat at the end of the table where Ned had sat before, which had been the case for a few weeks now, but Jeyne was seated next to him. The bitch was staying for dinner. Theon tried not to show his annoyance when he sat down between Bran and Rickon— a new arrangement that had been silently made after Robb and Theon stopped talking.

Catelyn was carrying in a large pot of beef stew, steaming rising up from it tantalizingly. Next to the pot went a platter of homemade biscuits and a dish of cheesy mashed potatoes, carried out by Sansa. They sat; Catelyn looked worn and wearier than ever, but she smiled at them nonetheless.

"Dinner's ready," she said. "Eat up."

Theon loaded his plate with food and began to eat, shooting the occasional glare over at Robb and Jeyne. It was uncomfortably silent until Sansa spoke up.

“So! How was everyone’s day?”

"Baelish sprung a quiz on us in English," Robb complained. He glanced at Theon and then glanced away again.

"Gym class had to run a mile today," Bran remarked. "I didn't have to," he followed up with a grin.

Theon snickered at Bran’s remark before swallowing his food and speaking up. “I got a boyfriend,” he announced before shoveling another spoonful of food into his mouth as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

"Who is it?" Sansa asked excitedly. Catelyn slowly lifted her head, looking over at him like she knew, but didn't dare believe it. Arya gave him a suspicious look from across the table.

Theon finished his mouthful before he spoke again. “Ramsay Bolton.” He put an emphasis on the last name. “He took me out for lunch today, paid for it and everything.”

Catelyn's face fell, while Robb's went stony. Jeyne looked around, confused. None of them said anything, until Rickon spoke up.

"I thought Robb and you were dating," the boy said, utterly bewildered.

Theon laughed loudly—a little too loudly for it to seems genuine—and smiled at Rickon. “No, no. Robb and I never dated, we never would. We don’t like each other like that at all, buddy.” Theon made sure his tone was gentle enough to soothe Rickon, but still had a bite to it to hurt Robb.

"You're acting like you don't even like each other as friends," Arya muttered, stabbing at a carrot in her stew.

“That’s because we don’t,” Theon said sharply with the same fake smile plastered on his face.

Robb nodded once, pushing his chair back from the table and leaving without another word, his food untouched. Jeyne stared after him, clearly unsure if she should go after him. He looked as though he wanted to be alone, but she had never been this uncomfortable in her life.

Poor little Rickon looked upset and confused, but he didn’t say a word.

Theon finished eating and stood. “I’ll be going to my room now. Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Stark.” He nodded in her direction before placing his plate in the sink and heading up to his room with Queenie at his heels.

As Theon passed Robb's room, Grey Wind's massive form skulked out, yellow eyes glaring. Just beyond Grey Wind, on the bed, Robb was sitting still, facing the wall, apparently deep in thought. Grey Wind pulled his lips back and snarled at Theon, and he'd never so much as growled at him before, but his hackles were up now and he looked hateful.

Theon turned to look at Grey Wind and gave him an equally hateful look. He had no right, Theon thought, and Robb had none either. Robb, playing the victim as if he’d been slighted. As if he were the one who was abandoned and rejected after spilling his heart out. Theon would’ve given him anything, would’ve given himself completely to him, and it was Robb who turned that away. It was Robb who heard him sobbing, crying himself to sleep many nights in a row, Robb who didn’t so much as ask him if he were okay, much less come to actually check on him. Robb who only tried to talk to him when he made a different friend.

Robb had seen him vulnerable, he’d seen him sad and angry, at his very worst and very best, but it meant nothing. Robb had fucked him, let him cry out declarations of love, only to sneak out during the night. Robb had abandoned him, he reminded himself. Not the other way around. Robb had torn his heart out, shattered it, then shoved it back into the hole in his chest when he’d pushed Theon away. Robb had tried to get Theon to stay away from the person who was helping him piece it back together.

“How fucking dare you,” Theon hissed through clenched teeth at the dog before turning on his heel and storming down the hall.

"Grey Wind," Robb called. "Stop it. Come here, buddy."

The dog stared after Theon for a long moment before turning and loping across the room, hopping onto Robb's bed next to him. He pushed his nose against him, keening. Robb's face was wet as he turned to face his dog, and he stroked his ears with a dead look in his eyes.

"I've lost him," Robb said. "I drove him away. Grey, I really fucked up." He leaned his forehead against Grey Wind's, falling silent again. "He's gonna get himself killed, Grey. Bolton's gonna... Bolton's gonna destroy him."

"Robb?" Jeyne said softly, knocking on the ajar door a couple of minutes later. "I'm sorry I didn't come up sooner, you just looked like you needed some time alone."

"Yeah," Robb said quietly. "Thank you." She entered and sat down next to him, pulling him into a gentle hug. He relaxed into her; he didn't deserve this, he thought, he didn't deserve somebody like Jeyne, caring about him like this. But he couldn't bring himself to deny it, and when her lips brushed a delicate kiss on the top of his head, he tilted his head up and captured her lips with his own.

Theon couldn’t cry, couldn’t waste any more tears on Robb Stark. He let himself channel the hurt and sorrow into anger. Anger was easier to deal with. He went to his window, cracking it open, leaning out and lighting a joint. He blew out a puff of smoke and watched it dissipate in the cool January air. He tried to ignore how he was feeling, but he was soon sitting with his back against the wall below the window, trembling and smoking and boiling with rage. He should’ve expected Robb to abandon him. He should’ve known. His hand not holding the joint was clenched into a fist, nails digging into his skin.

“I fucking hate you, Robb Stark,” Theon hissed under his breath. He said it again and again, blinking back tears and hoping if he said it enough, it would become true.


	22. Chapter 22

Ramsay's hands were heavy on Theon's hips, his breath hot and teeth sharp against Theon's throat. Theon was moaning beneath him, grinding his hips up seeking friction. Ramsay chuckled to himself, biting down on the junction of Theon's shoulder and neck, sucking in a pretty bruise.

Theon was panting softly, eyes rolling back as Ramsay bit and sucked at his skin, his cock achingly hard between his legs as he tried to grind up against Ramsay. His arms were wrapped around the larger man’s torso, nails scratching slightly at his back. “Tease.” Theon whined, looking up into his boyfriend’s ice blue eyes. 

Ramsay swooped down and kissed him hard enough to bruise, and it wasn't sweet or chaste, but all teeth and tongue and burning lust. He'd had Theon once before, knew how he felt around his cock, and he needed to feel it again.

Theon moaned into his mouth, whimpering as Ramsay’s teeth pulled at his bottom lip. His skin felt as if it was on fire, arousal lighting his nerves. He lifted a leg to loop around Ramsay’s waist, pulling him down so he’d be pressed against him. Theon gasped as he rolled his hips, grinding against Ramsay and feeling their cocks brush against each other. Ramsay wasn’t being gentle, everything felt heated and rough, but Theon was grateful for it. It was so different from Robb. 

The way Ramsay looked at him made him feel like prey, and Ramsay was the one hunting him. Theon didn’t mind at all, thriving off that hunger and lust, knowing his own need was showing on his face and in the noises he was making. 

"Still want me to make you scream?" Ramsay purred, nipping along the shell of his ear. "Better pick a safeword, babe. I'll have you screaming all day long."

Theon’s eyes lit up, excitement clear on his face even when he tried to hide it. A safeword. “Kraken.” He moaned, continuing to grind up again. “Fuck, Rams, I need you.” His cock was leaking precome, smearing onto Ramsay’s skin. 

"You'll have me, just be patient." He trailed down Theon's body, leaving a line of hickeys all the way to the v of his groin, before circling back up to his nipples. He tugged one gently with his teeth, testing Theon's reaction.

Theon gasped, looking down at him with eyes full of lust. “Ramsay, please,” He whined, the feeling of Ramsay’s teeth on his nipple making him whimper in pleasure, cock twitching. 

"Please what?" he asked, pinching at Theon's other nipple. "What do you want me to do to you?"

“Fuck,” Theon cursed, hips jerking. “I want you to fuck me, Rams, please.” 

"Suck," he ordered, pressing his fingers to Theon's lips.

“I’d rather suck your cock.” Theon murmured before taking Ramsay’s fingers in his mouth and sucking, moaning like a slut as he looked into Ramsay’s eyes. 

Ramsay stared down at him in delight, practically shoving his fingers down Theon's throat. "I don't have any lube, so you better get them nice and wet," he said. "You can suck my cock after."

Theon moaned louder, sucking at them more intently, pretending they were his cock, trying to show off his lack of gag reflex. He kept looking up at him, not breaking eye contact. 

"You're a filthy slut, aren't you babe? All you ever want is a cock stuffing your ass." Ramsay pulled his fingers from Theon's lips, slick and wet, and he pressed them to Theon's hole.

“Your cock.” Theon corrected, reaching out to hold onto Ramsay’s arm as one of the fingers pushed into him, the feeling uncomfortable but not quite painful. 

"Just mine?" Ramsay asked, already working in another finger. Theon's grip tightened on his arm, and Ramsay slowed his pace.

“Yours.” He agreed, whimpering at the stretch but pushing his hips back, taking the fingers in deeper. 

Testing him first, Ramsay pushed in his third finger, stretching. "How about Stark's, hm?"

“You’re- ah, Rams!” He cried out at the third finger, a small bit of pain mingling with the discomfort. “You’re thicker, better at f-fucking.” 

"That's not an answer," Ramsay said, thrusting his fingers in deep.

Theon gasped, eyes rolling back when those fingers brushed over his prostate. “I-I-“ He whined again, “I used to, not now. Now just yours. I just want yours, Rams, please!” 

"Only mine, for as long as you're mine?" Ramsay pulled his fingers free and grabbed his cock, positioning himself at Theon's entrance.

“Only yours.” He promised, wiggling his hips to try and get Ramsay’s cock in him faster. “Come on, Ramsay. Make me scream.” His voice was pleading, but it was a challenge all the same. 

"Wait," Ramsay said, his voice sharp. "Tell me what you think of him, of Stark."

“Rams, please, I don’t wanna talk about him.” Theon whined, pouting up at him. “I want your cock inside me.” 

"Do you want it more than you ever wanted Stark's?" he asked, leaning over him so his lips were inches from Theon's.

“Yes, yes,” He whined, arms wrapping around Ramsay’s torso. “I want it. I want you to fuck me, Rams, to make me scream like you promised.”

"Then tell me," he breathed, eyes sharp and narrow, "exactly what you think of Robb Stark."

“I think he’s a piece of shit.” Theon looked back at him with a newfound intensity in his eyes and his voice. “I think he’s a self absorbed scumbag who doesn’t want me to be with you, and I want to be with you. I want to be with you right now. I want you inside me, Ramsay, please!” His voice cracked on the plea. 

Ramsay obliged with a smirk, pushing into Theon and feeling him stretch around him. He barely gave Theon any time to adjust before he was moving, spreading his legs further apart and thrusting into him.

Theon cursed when he felt Ramsay enter him, feeling the stretch and discomfort and a bit of pain that increased when Ramsay began thrusting into him. “Rams- Rams, wait,” He knew the pain would fade, but it would be easier if Ramsay let him adjust first. “You’re too big.” 

He stopped, buried deep within him, and gazed down at Theon. "Tell me when you're ready," he said quietly, his hands roaming up Theon's chest.

Theon waited a few moments, taking deep breaths and willing himself to relax around Ramsay. He wanted to be fucked as soon as possible, but he wanted to be able to take his cock without pain. As soon as he felt he could take it without too much discomfort, he nodded his head. “Now. You can fuck me now.” He looked Ramsay in the eye, lustful and hungry. “Please.” 

Ramsay snapped his hips, the force of his thrust jolting Theon's whole body. His right hand planted on Theon's chest, holding him down, and his left fell to the mattress beside Theon's head.

Theon’s hips jerked up against Ramsay with each hard thrust, throwing his head back against the pillow and moaning. It still felt a bit uncomfortable, but the feeling of being so full, so stretched, it was sending pulses of pleasure through his body. 

"You're mine," Ramsay grunted, "right, Theon? All mine." Theon was hot and tight around him, and leaned more of his weight into him, pushing him into the mattress, aiming deeper with every thrust.

“Ramsay!” Theon cried out, nails digging into his boyfriend’s back. “Fuck, all yours. Yours. Oh, fuck!” Ramsay’s cock hit against his prostate and his whole body shuddered, cock twitching and throbbing and leaking. “There, Rams, right there!” 

Theon had a nice voice perfectly suited for this, Ramsay thought. He arched his back, relishing the feel of Theon's nails scratching down his spine. Ramsay's hand slid up to put pressure on Theon's throat, testing, watching his reaction carefully.

Theon whimpered at the pressure, clenching tighter around him, angling his hips to take Ramsay in deeper. “Fuck,” He gasped, trying to look Ramsay in the eye instead of letting his eyes roll back in pleasure. “Yours. I’m yours.” He repeated. 

"Yes, you are," Ramsay groaned, applying more pressure around his throat until the look in Theon's eyes told him it was enough.

It was hard to breath, Ramsay’s hand squeezing around his throat cutting off his air, and he loved it. His face was slowly getting redder and all he could focus on was each brutal thrust of Ramsay’s cock inside him. His nails scratched harder at Ramsay’s back, breathing growing louder and more labored. 

Ramsay let off just long enough for him to draw a breath, before choking him again and leaning down to kiss away the breath he had. 

"So tight, Theon," he panted. The feel of Theon's fingernails clawing his back sent pleasure spiking down his spine.

“Ramsay,” Theon managed, voice barely even a whisper, kissing him back hungrily. He stopped trying to make eye contact and let his eyes roll back in pleasure, desperate for breath, squirming and whining and bucking beneath Ramsay. 

The skin of Theon's throat was soft under his hand, his neck fragile, and Ramsay had to restrain himself from applying too much pressure. He compensated by thrusting harder, hearing the slap of skin and Theon's needy little whines and moans.

“Can’t- Rams-“ Theon gasped, one hand moving from where it was on Ramsay’s back to claw at the hand around his neck. It felt good- so good, too good- and Theon was starting to see bright spots in his vision from the lack of air. Ramsay’s thrusts were hard, brutal, and Theon nearly screamed when he arched his back and lifted his hips and the thrusts began landing directly at his prostate. He kept his body angled like that, in such a way that it would be hard for a thrust to miss his sweet spot. 

Ramsay let up suddenly, releasing him entirely and grabbing Theon by the hips instead and pulling him into him with every thrust. He dragged his cock frustratingly slow over Theon's prostate, and purposely missed it with the next thrusts.

Theon’s hand quickly returned to clutch at Ramsay’s back. His nails were digging in deep enough to draw blood now, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He cursed loudly, voice cracking, squirming to try and get Ramsay’s cock to land against his prostate once more. 

Ramsay panted harshly, arching his back into the touch, feeling the blood well up, and he was almost overcome by pleasure as Theon raked his nails down his back again. He drove into Theon's prostate as a sort of reward, hard enough to inspire the beautiful blend of pleasure and pain that he was feeling.

“Ramsay!” Theon’s voice was desperate, pitched higher than usual, a mix of a moan and a plea. “I’m gonna- Rams!” He could feel his orgasm coming fast, the pleasure pooling and curling and weighing down in the pit of his stomach, his cock leaking precome. The way Ramsay was looking at him made his skin feel hot, each thrust pushing him closer and closer to the edge. “Ramsay, I’m gonna come!” He warned. 

"No, you're not," Ramsay said, grabbing Theon's cock and blocking the slit with his thumb, holding it firmly around the base. "Not until I say you can."

“Wha-“ Theon’s eyes went almost comically wide, his cock aching almost painfully at the denial of his orgasm. “Rams, I need- I-“ He broke off into a desperate whine, squirming and clawing at Ramsay’s back.

Ramsay smirked, thrusting directly into his prostate again. He could feel Theon's cock throbbing in his grip. "Scream my name," he ordered.

“I need to come!” Theon practically sobbed, his whole body trembling from the pleasure and stimulation. “Rams- Ramsay, Ramsay, please!” He was clenching tighter around Ramsay’s cock, nails digging deeper into his back, and he was desperate. Another thrust into his prostate had him screaming, eyes rolling back and cock throbbing with need. “Ramsay!” He screamed, not caring how desperate or whorish he sounded. “Ramsay, please!” 

"How badly do you need it?" Ramsay hissed, bending low to nip at his throat again. Burning arousal spiked in his gut at the utterly wrecked look on Theon's face, the pain of Theon's fingernails in his back, and the blood he could feel dripping from the wounds.

“Bad,” Theon’s voice cracked, body shuddering at the feel of Ramsay’s bite. “I need it, I need it Rams, please let me come!” The desperation had his face flushing but he couldn’t find it in himself to really care. He wanted to come. He needed to. And Ramsay was the one who was deciding if he could or not. “Please, please, please!” He begged, over and over, sounding increasingly desperate win each word. 

"You, know, Theon... I can't quite remember what it was you said about Stark... Care to remind me?" His eyes were sharp and piercing, staring down at Theon as he fucked him relentlessly, his pace speeding up minutely, abusing his prostate.

“I don’t give a fuck about Stark,” Theon spat, and at the moment, he really didn’t. All he could think about was Ramsay’s cock plowing him into the mattress, slamming repeatedly into his prostate, that hand gripping his cock to keep him from coming. “He’s not you, he’s- ah, fuck- he’s a scumbag, a spoiled bitch- fuck, Ramsay, please!” He could barely focus on anything other than the cock inside him and his desperate need to come. 

"Good boy," Ramsay praised, let go, and watched Theon fall apart with a glint of cruel amusement in his eyes.

Theon desperately fought back the orgasm, thrashing and squirming and whimpering, remembering what Ramsay had said before. Something in him was clinging to the ‘not until I say you can,’ and his next words slipped out without even thinking. “Can I? Rams, can I come? Please, you said- you said not until you say, and you didn’t say- oh fuck, please?” He could feel tears welling up in his eyes from the intensity of the pleasure in his body.

"Yes, Theon," Ramsay breathed, pride in every syllable. "Come for me."

Theon completely lost it then, sounds a mix of sobs and screams and Ramsay’s name as he came, hips bucking and body shaking. He clenched tight around Ramsay’s cock, eyes squeezed shut as his come spurted out onto his and Ramsay’s bodies. It was pure, white-hot bliss, and Theon felt like he was melting in the pleasure. Even with his eyes closed he could feel Ramsay watching him. He felt so hot, so good and desperate as he rode out his orgasm. 

"Good boy," he praised again, marking up his throat with heavier, darker hickeys as he spilled deep within him. "Want a taste?"

Theon’s heart swelled at the praise, his body relaxing, muscles feeling like jelly as he nodded. He was still panting softly, opening his eyes to look up at Ramsay. “Fuck, yes.” He whispered, groaning at the feeling of Ramsay’s come inside him. 

Ramsay swiped a finger through Theon's own cum, pressing the finger to Theon's lips. "Eat up," he whispered.

Theon took the finger into his mouth, sucking at it eagerly. His come tasted bitter and salty but he didn’t care, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he looked up into Ramsay’s. 

"Good..." He slid himself out of Theon and pulled Theon's legs up, looking as though he may eat him out like Robb had, but instead he merely studied the way his cum was dripping out of him, a smirk on his lips, before he scooped some up and offered it to Theon.

Theon decided he loved the way Ramsay looked at him, as if he were examining him, admiring him, and he eagerly took his fingers into his mouth again, sucking on them with a soft moan. He didn’t break eye contact the whole time, except to occasionally glance down at Ramsay’s cock, soft and wet but still so thick. 

"Did you want more?" Ramsay asked, clearly not quite sated. From the look of it, Theon wasn't either.

“I never got to suck your cock.” Theon pouted, trying to keep a grin off his face. 

"Greedy little whore... Go on, then. I'm waiting for you." Ramsay stroked his own cock, slick with remnants of his cum.

Theon quickly moved onto his knees, crawling over to the end of the bed where Ramsay was sitting. He gave him a small, seductive smile before dipping his head down and wrapping his lips around the head of Ramsay’s cock. 

True to Ramsay's word, he had Theon screaming his name all day long. That night, when Ramsay dropped Theon off back home, Theon was floaty, deliriously happy, feeling as though he just had one of the best days of his life. Ramsay watched him stumble inside, obviously exhausted, and Robb, who was outside playing with Grey Wind, turned and gave Ramsay the foulest look he could muster. Ramsay winked at him, backing out of the driveway and speeding off, feeling rather content himself.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made finstas for Robb Jon and Theon and let me tell u we are having a FUN time w them

Robb was an idiot, there was no denying it now. Theon walked around with pride in his step, wearing a wreath of hickeys on his neck and shooting him triumphant looks every chance he got. He felt it may also have something to do with Jeyne, who, knowing of the proximity of Theon's room to his own, made it a point to moaning just loud enough for him to hear. Theon retaliated by spending more and more time out with Ramsay, though thankfully he never invited him over. He could hardly complain, with it being all his own fault, but he sorely wished that he had never gotten drunk that night, that he had never slept with Theon, because then none of this would have happened, and he wouldn't be feeling so fucking guilty. He wouldn't be responsible for what Theon was doing to himself.

Still, he had asked Jeyne out in the hallway when he knew Theon was nearby, simply because he couldn't combat his own jealousy anymore. She had been attached to him ever since, coming over every day and something about her helped, easing his own turmoil, and he thought she loved him. She was easy to love, so why couldn't he find it in himself to love her? Why was he still drawn to Theon, seeking a relationship that he had destroyed, but missed so terribly. Theon didn't want him anymore, but Robb had abused him, taken advantage of him and his vulnerability, and he deserved every ounce of pain he was getting.

It had been a little over a week since Theon and Ramsay had first fucked as boyfriends, and they’d been doing it almost every day since. He noticed the way Robb had been looking at him, like he was some sort of kicked puppy or something. Queenie was confused with how often he was gone from the Stark house, but she was loving and understanding and Sansa cared for her while she was gone. Theon was pretty happy- except for when he’d seen Robb ask Jeyne out, after which he and Ramsay had went out to fuck in the parking lot and Theon had come back into school looking well-fucked and covered in hickeys. 

It was halfway through the last week of a January, and Theon wanted Ramsay to come over. Ramsay was willing, as long as he didn’t have to deal with any of the Starks. Theon snuck him in around ten that night, leading him into his room. They were sloppily making out and stumbling toward the bed the second the door closed behind them. 

Robb lay awake in bed for hours that night, Jeyne snoozing beside him, unable to sleep himself. Theon and Ramsay were going at it, definitely loud enough that they wanted him to hear, and it made him sick to his stomach—especially when he heard Theon orgasm after calling out his hatred for Robb. After so long of this, the thought struck Robb that Ramsay was conditioning Theon, only letting him orgasm after voicing his loathing. That thought made him even sicker. 

He didn't end up sleeping that night.

Theon woke up early to sneak Ramsay out to his car, telling him to leave and drive by again to pick him up in a couple minutes. When he went to sit at the table for breakfast, Arya was glaring at him. 

“Think you were loud enough?” She snapped, shoving a forkful off pancake into her mouth. “‘Ramsay, Ramsay, please!’” She mocked, looking amused and angry at the same time. 

Sansa looked at Arya in surprise. “Arya, no! That’s rude!” 

“I don’t hear anyone complaining when she keeps everyone up sounding like a pornstar all night.” Theon replied, pointing across the table at Jeyne. 

Jeyne went bright red and looked away, embarrassed. Robb felt a twinge of anger on her behalf, but his mother walked in with another plate of pancakes and he lowered his head, not saying a word, but shooting Theon a filthy look. Guilty as he was, Jeyne had done nothing wrong.

Theon responded by grinning smugly at Robb, a dark bite mark on his jawline matching the hickeys all over his neck. He finished up his plate and took a bagel from the table, wrapping it in a napkin as he stood. “Well. My ride should be here. Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Stark.” He smiled at her before turning and leaving the dining room. 

Arya turned to give Robb a dirty look, as if she knew something was up and it was his fault. She was mostly just mad because he’d also done his fair share of keeping her up at night. 

Catelyn gave Robb a meaningful look, and he followed her out into the kitchen. 

"Robb," she began, "have you talked to him? At all?"

"I tried," Robb said. "He didn't want to listen. He got angry and left."

"Did you only try the one time?"

Robb looked sheepishly at the floor. Catelyn sighed and embraced him. Her poor, foolish boy. She didn't know what had transpired between them, what had happened to dismantle an eleven-year friendship, but her poor son was clearly miserable, and she wanted nothing more than to take his pain away. They were all dealing with enough at the moment, he didn't need to shoulder this burden as well. 

"Talk to him, please. Make him listen, if you have to, just... Don't let him slip away, okay? Every second you wait, he gets angrier and angrier, and it will be harder for you to get through to him," Catelyn said softly. He nodded stiffly, and maybe his eyes were a little wet when she pulled away, but she said nothing. Robb left the kitchen, bypassing the dining room and jogging up the stairs to his room to fetch his backpack. He had stopped driving himself after the first day Theon had ridden with Ramsay, and he was once again riding in the van with his siblings. 

As he helped Bran into his seat, he thought on his mother's words. He would talk to Theon again today, make him see sense, and maybe they could work on repairing their shattered relationship.

Theon was barely ever away from Ramsay, always together in the halls and in class, or skipping class together, giving Robb no time to talk to him alone. Theon went to to the bathroom during Baelish’s English class, and he was washing his hands when he heard the door open and turned to see Robb walking in. 

"Theon?" Robb said warily, stopping near the sink nearest the door. "Can I talk to you?"

Theon gave him a look. “You’ll talk whether I say yes or not, so what do you want?” 

"I'm worried about you," Robb began. "You're never home anymore."

“Thanks for letting me know, I hadn’t noticed.” Theon drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"No, Thee, I mean..." He trailed off, a pained look on his face. "I... I miss you."

Theon snorted, a nasty look on his face. “Oh yes, I’m sure. Is Jeyne not tight enough for you?” 

"This has nothing to do with Jeyne. I'm here, talking to you, because I miss you. You're my best friend, Thee, you know that."

“I don’t know if I do, actually, because I wasn’t aware that best friends treated each other like cum rags.” Theon pretended to look as if he were contemplating it. “Interesting how you miss me, and how you say I’m your best friend, and yet Ramsay treats me like I’m valuable and you treated me as if... well, you know.” 

"I promised to protect you, remember? I know I haven't been doing a good job, but I'm trying now, okay? Thee, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to..." He broke off, biting his lip. He couldn't admit it. Hard as he tried, he couldn't admit it. "I didn't mean to."

“You accidentally fell over and rammed your cock up my ass.” Theon taunted, voice laced with malice. “This is bullshit. I should’ve just walked out when I saw you coming in. I’m not dealing with this.” He ripped a paper towel from the dispenser, drying his hands. “I’m done with this shit. I’m with Ramsay now, get used to it.” He turned and walked out of the bathroom. 

"Theon!" he called after him, desperate. "Theon, I'm not done!" But it was to no avail. Theon was gone, out of earshot, and likely out of reach entirely. He slumped back against the sink, running a hand through his hair, thinking. Barely two minutes passed before the door was opened again and he lurched forward, heart leaping in his chest, daring to hope that it was Theon returning. 

"Theon? You in here, babe?" Ramsay asked, coming into the bathroom. Robb grit his teeth in a sudden fury and spun, grabbing Ramsay by the shirt collar and slamming him up against the wall. Ramsay's breath caught in his throat, momentarily stunned, before his eyes narrowed to slits and he scowled at Robb. "Stark... or should I call you the Young Wolf?"

"I don't give a fuck what you call me," Robb spat, "so long as you stay away from Theon."

"And why should I do that?" Ramsay purred.

"He's too good for you."

"Is he? Theon doesn't think so. Theon loves me," said Ramsay cockily. Robb stared back at him, tightening his grip on Ramsay's shirt, wanting nothing more than to beat that look of shining arrogance right off Ramsay's face.

"No, he doesn't. He can't, he doesn't know—"

"You're jealous," Ramsay told him knowingly. "Well, guess what, Stark? He's mine," he hissed, leaning in close so their faces were mere inches apart. "He's mine, you lost him, and you need to get over it. He doesn't want you anymore. He doesn't love you anymore."

"I don't care if he does or not!" Robb said furiously. "He doesn't deserve this! He has done nothing to deserve you— he doesn't even know you! You're going to destroy him, and I won't let you!"

"You won't let me? What are you going to do to stop me? Daddy's dead now, little wolf. You can't do a thing about it. Theon is mine, and I can do whatever I want with him. I can break him into as many tiny pieces as I please," Ramsay said, his voice a silky-sweet whisper of danger. "And I will, and you'll watch, because you're helpless to do anything else."

"Bolton, don't you dare—"

"What did I just say, Stark? You... can't... do... a damned thing."

Ramsay shoved Robb off of him, and he stumbled back, muscles taut. He straightened out the wrinkles in his shirt, turning to face himself in the mirror and smoothing down the ruffles in his hair. Robb watched him, and he had never hated another person so much, but his head and heart were pounding with the emotion. Ramsay didn't love Theon, he didn't deserve him... he loved him like one would love a prized possession, but ultimately it was replaceable, valuable but not priceless... He tipped forward, grabbing onto the sides of the nearest sink, and tried to breathe, tried to calm down. Ramsay cast him a sideways glance, lips quirking up into a little grin. 

"I have to say, I do understand what he saw in you. It's almost a shame that he'll never know just how much you love him." Ramsay fully turned and looked at him thoughtfully. "He'll never know what it's like to be truly loved... How sad."

Robb looked up at him, still half-bent over the sink, his entire being flaring with loathing so intense he couldn't bear it. With a maddening little wave, Ramsay moved past him, towards the door. 

"I should be getting back, now. Theon is probably wondering where I am," he said, teasing. "See you in class..." The door shut behind him, and Robb was alone, and all he could think about was how this was all his fault


	24. Chapter 24

It had been a week since Theon had talked to Robb in the bathroom, and they hadn’t spoken at all since. He still talked to the other Starks, mainly Sansa, as she liked to talk about their boyfriends together. She would tell him all about Joffrey and he’d tell her all the sweet things Ramsay said and did for him. He hadn’t met Sansa’s Joffrey, but from how she spoke of him, he sounded like a brilliant guy. He couldn’t help but smile when the pair walked by him in the hall.

“Truly, I think my mother would adore you.” Joffrey boasted, holding Sansa’s hand. “You must come to my house sometime, I think you’d love it.”

"Okay," Sansa said somewhat breathlessly, excitement written all over her face. "That's funny, I was actually going to ask you if you would like to come to my house for dinner tomorrow night... and maybe I could come over tonight?" she said hopefully.

“Oh, I’d love that.” Joffrey said with a smile, and Theon thought the kid sounded a bit like a pompous brat, but Sansa liked him so he couldn’t be that bad. “My mother shouldn’t mind. You can come home with me after school, if you’d like.”

"That would be great!" Sansa said, delighted. "I'll let my mother know!" She threw her arms around him, hugging him, and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Lovely.” Joffrey said, gently hugging her back. “I’m sure my siblings will adore you as well.”

"If they're anything like you, they'll be perfect!" said Sansa, practically glowing.

Joffrey placed a soft kiss on her cheek and they separated to go to class. At the end of the school day he met her by the doors, escorting her out to his car. The drive to the Lannister home was quick, and he politely escorted her inside.

“You must be Sansa. I’m Cersei, it’s lovely to meet you.” A gorgeous blonde woman greeted her in the doorway.

"Hi! It's nice to meet you too. Your home is beautiful!" Sansa said admiringly, looking around at the huge house and expansive gardens.

“Thank you, dear.” Cersei smiled warmly down at her as Joffrey led her further into the house.

The halls were already rich with the smell of dinner cooking in the oven, but Cersei led them straight past the kitchen and dining room, bringing them instead into the living area. Far different from the Stark's own family room, the Lannister's was centered around an ornate fireplace, with furniture of fancy dark wood and deep red luxury fabrics. A boy was curled in the armchair beside a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, reading a thick tome.

"This is Tommen," Cersei introduced. "Myrcella!" she called. "Myrcella, come in here! Joff has brought his girlfriend over!"

Sansa flushed pink but smiled. “Hi Marcella, hi Tommen.” She then turned to Joffrey. “They look just like you!”

Joffrey scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, but Myrcella is a girl and Tommen is fat.” He joked.

"I'm smarter than you, though," Tommen said, setting his book down and looking calmly at Joffrey. Sansa bit back a smile, while Cersei pursed her lips.

“Not true.” Joffrey snapped, turning away from the young Baratheon and back to Sansa. “Would you like to sit, Sansa? I’m sure dinner will be done quite soon.”

"Yes, thank you." She followed him to the dining room, which was also rather lavish, and sat herself to the right of Joffrey. He had sat in what she assumed was his father's old seat at the head of the table, and he looked quite happy to be there.

“This was my father’s chair, before he died.” Joffrey informed her, looking awfully smug for a boy talking about the death of his father. “Truly a tragic event. I sit here now. I like to think he’d want me in this chair. I am his eldest, after all.”

"I think you're right," Sansa told him encouragingly. "He would have wanted you there... I was so sorry to hear about your father. I had only met him twice, but he was always kind."

“He was alright.” Joffrey replied with a shrug. “He was a drunk and never home. I didn’t care for him much.”

Before anyone had a chance to respond, Cersei entered the room with a perfectly golden roast pheasant, setting it down on the table. Myrcella sat beside Sansa and Tommen across from her, with Cersei sitting down at the other end of the table.

"It looks incredible!" Sansa said eagerly. Cersei gave her a half-smile, and they dug in.

* * *

 

From the moment they walked through the door, Ghost was absolutely beside himself with joy. Robb laughed, stroking his soft head, and feeling for a moment as though a weight he didn't even know was there had been lifted from his chest. Jon looked on with a soft smile, Ygritte at his side.

"Thank you for letting me come over," Robb said to them both.

“Of course.” Jon said, placing a hand gently on Robb’s shoulder. “It’s about time we hung out again.”

Ygritte nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’ll distract him so he doesn’t spend all night trying to get me to fuck him.” That earned her a playful jab to the side from Jon. “Okay, okay! I’m gonna go out with Mance and Tormund, you two stay out of trouble.” She winked and walked away.

Jon knew something was up, and the moment Ygritte left, he was leading Robb to his room. He closed the door behind them and Ghost once there, turning to his half-brother with worry written on his face. “Robb, what’s wrong?”

"I keep trying to talk to Theon and he won't let me," Robb said. "I'm really worried about him–he's never home, and he won't hear a word against Bolton. I don't know what else to do. I had him the other day, I was talking to him, and I couldn't bring myself to tell him."

Jon sat down on the bed, gesturing for Robb to sit beside him. “Theon... listen, Robb.” He sighed. “You don’t have to tell me, but you and Theon have never gone this long without talking. Something serious must have happened. What happened with you two?”

"After dad's funeral, we got drunk, and... We slept together," Robb admitted. "I took advantage of him, drunk and we were both upset, and he had been kicked out so recently, and I regret it, Jon, I do... I feel terrible, I pushed him away, and I've tried to apologize but he doesn't want anything to do with me now."

“He’s mad that you slept with him?” Jon looked confused. “Theon is- no offense- Theon is kind of a whore. He sleeps with people all the time. Why’s he so upset about this?” Theon sure hadn’t cared when Jon fucked him. Jon knew how Theon felt about Robb, it was obvious, but it wasn’t like Robb could’ve known.

"He told me he loved me," Robb said with a pained expression. "He loves me, and I took advantage of him. I didn't know what to do, and I... was really cruel to him."

“Oh fuck.” Job looked at Robb, a mix of pity and disappointment in his eyes, though he tried not to show it. It was always so obvious how Theon felt about Robb, but he was still surprised to hear that Theon had actually said it. “I’m sure you weren’t cruel. You said you pushed him away? I mean, what did you do? Did you not say it back or something?”

"No... I avoided him. I needed to be alone for a little while, and he... I told him that I didn't want to see him, and I didn't even think-" Robb broke off, visibly ashamed. "He wouldn't look at me at all, or even talk to me after that."

“Robb.” Jon sighed. “Robb, did you actually take advantage of him? Because he- dude, he said he loved you. Do you like him back, or were you really using him just for a quick fuck? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, but that doesn’t sound like you.”

"Of course I wasn't, I- I love him too, Jon, but the timing-- that's not how I wanted it, and I doubt that's what he wanted either."

“So you pushed him away because you were worried you’d taken advantage of him? Gods, Robb, I’m sorry but,” he placed a gentle hand on Robb’s shoulder, “That’s just stupid.”

"I know that now!" he said. "I wanted space to think, and then he was avoiding me and I was avoiding him, and then days passed and I didn't know what to say to fix it so I didn't... Now he's dating Ramsay Bolton, and I'm still in love with him. Jon, I really fucked up."

“Does he actually like Ramsay, or is he just doing it to make you jealous?” Jon said, thinking back to when he’d seen the two together. Theon did look awfully happy with Ramsay, always holding hands and clinging to his side, bright smile on his face as he talked and talked and talked and Ramsay just listened. It seemed odd, Ramsay acting so kind and gentle when everyone knew that he was the opposite. “Fuck.”

"I think he loves him, now," Robb said. "Bolton told me... I talked to him, and he told me that he's going to destroy Theon. He doesn't love him, he just wants to take him to pieces."

“You need to warn Theon.” Jon was growing more and more worried. “I know you’ve tried, but you need to try again. You know what Bolton is capable of. You can’t let this keep going.”

"He won't let me talk to him! I don't know what else to say--he won't hear a word against Bolton--without telling him... everything." Robb glanced away, defeated. "It's too late to do that."

“It’s not too late!” Jon argued. “You said it yourself, Bolton wants to ruin Theon.”

"He leaves the room if I so much as say Bolton's name," Robb said. "I don't know what to do-- am I supposed to restrain him and force him to listen?"

Jon laughed but it was hollow and lacked any real amusement. “Would you rather do that or have to find Theon’s corpse after Bolton’s Boys hunt him like some sort of animal?”

Robb flinched horribly. "Don't say that, Jon. I want to- no, I need to protect him. I just don't have the words to make him listen to me.”

“You need to keep trying.” Jon said firmly. “You need to, Robb, otherwise he’s going to get hurt. Bolton has been playing nice so far, but you don’t know when he’ll snap.”

"I'll try again soon," Robb promised. "Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, until he listens."

Jon seemed to relax a little at that. “Good. He doesn’t- Theon can be a dick, but he doesn’t deserve Bolton.”

"Nobody does," Robb muttered. Ghost picked just then to let out a whine; he had missed Robb, and his littermates, and Robb smelled like them, like home. Robb gave him an absentminded pat, looking thoughtfully at Jon.

“Ghost misses you, and all the others.” Jon stated quietly after a moment. “Even Theon.” He snorted. “Any time Ygritte brings him in the car to get me from school, he always sees Theon through the window. He gets so annoyed.”

"I saw him with Bolton," Robb said with a laugh. "He looked like he wanted to rip his face off."

“You know what they say. Dogs are the best judges of character.” Jon’s smile suddenly turned into a worried frown. “I’m honestly shocked that Theon wasn’t worried when Ghost got mad at Ramsay. Theon loves Ghost, you think he’d be worried...”

"He probably brushed it off," Robb said, sighing. "Ghost doesn't care much for strangers, either."

“Yeah, but he doesn’t normally act like that.” Jon sighed, rolling his eyes as Ghost jumped on the bed, laying on Jon’s lap.

"Of course not, he's a good boy. Right, Ghostie?" Robb pressed a kiss to Ghost's forehead. "Anyways, I'll talk to Theon tomorrow."

"Good. Let me know how it goes," Jon said. Robb nodded his affirmation, and Jon pulled out his phone. "Want anything from Davos's Pizza? I'm going to order delivery."

"As long as you're getting wings to share, I'm good." Robb leaned back with a heavy sigh. He hoped the next couple of days fared well for him.


	25. Chapter 25

The room was dark and smelled of blood, Robb’s screams echoing through the room. He was right there, right in front of him, but Theon’s hands were tied behind him and he couldn’t do a thing. His arms were bound together as were his legs, and he was tied naked to a rough wooden chair, he could feel splinters digging into his skin. Despite the dark, he could see Robb’s eyes, bright blue and full of terror and pain. Theon thrashed against his restraints, screaming against the gag in his mouth.

“Theon!” Robb sobbed, blood dripping down his chest as a knife carved into his skin. He couldn’t see who it was, a blackened silhouette of a person. “Theon, stop it!”

He tried to say ‘I can’t!’ but it was muffled to the point of being impossible to decipher through the gag. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks, watching Robb try and get away from the blade. He was hanging from the ceiling by ropes tied to his wrists, his ankles tied to metal loops on the floor to keep his legs spread and unable to kick. Robb was nude as well, and Theon normally would admire it, but now it was just more skin exposed to be hurt. Robb screamed his name again, and the silhouette punched him in the gut, causing Robb’s body to convulse as he tried to double over and protect himself.

Theon watched as the blade slid under Robb’s skin, sliding through it like butter, the shadow of a hand grabbing the edge and violently tearing the strip of skin away. Robb screamed, the scream agonized and desperate and worse than any of the screams before. Pinkish red flesh- or muscle, Theon wasn’t sure- shone on his chest where the skin had been removed.

The knife came down again, and Theon awoke with a scream. He quickly cut himself off, looking around the room, brightly lit from the sun shining through the windows. He was panting heavily, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin.

A nightmare. Of course. It was just a stupid fucking nightmare. He was still worried about Robb, he had an urge to check on him, but he wouldn’t. He knew that he was being irrational, of course Robb was fine, but he still felt immense relief when he went down for breakfast and saw Robb sitting at the table.

Feeling eyes on him, Robb looked up from his waffle and caught Theon's gaze. He held it for barely two seconds before Theon looked away, looking stressed and uncomfortable. Robb's brow furrowed; was he okay?

They ate breakfast in silence, and when Theon went out to get in Ramsay’s car, Robb stopped him at the door. Robb’s hand grabbed his arm and Theon slapped it away, hissing furiously, “Do not touch me,” and storming away to get in Ramsay’s car without a single look back to see the crushed look on Robb’s face.

For the first time in a while, Theon went home with the Starks instead of Ramsay. He and Sansa had plans, and they went to her room to talk about it. Sansa already had permission to take Robb’s car later, but they wanted to talk first.

“It’s our one month, and Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.” Theon said, looking around the grey and lavender themed room. “I just don’t know what to get him.”

Sansa looked thoughtful, stroking Lady, who lay with her head in Sansa's lap and her hind legs and tail sprawled over Theon's lap. "I wish I had some ideas for you, but I don't think I've ever actually talked to him. I can help you brainstorm, though. What's he interested in?"

“He has nine dogs?” Theon furrowed his brows. “He’s interested in me?” He really didn’t know much about Ramsay’s recreational activities, they always just talked and made out and fucked. “He really likes meat. He’s not bad at cooking. Oh! And he likes hunting!”

"What does he hunt?" Sansa asked, making mental notes. "Does he take his dogs? I'm sure the mall sells hunting supplies... maybe you could get him something like that?"

“Uh, I’m not sure. And yeah, they’re hunting dogs! They’re very good girls.” He smiled brightly.

"Maybe skip the hunting thing, then... Maybe you could get him something from the Thenn Smokehouse and Butcher Shop? That way, he could pick out something delicious and you could have a homemade anniversary dinner!" Sansa said excitedly.

“Didn’t they get closed down because the FDA found human remains in their meat?” Theon grimaced.

"Did they?" Sansa asked, shocked. She immediately whipped out her phone, tapping out a quick search. "Uhmm... it says here that there was an investigation after several people went missing and were last seen there, and... Gods... They found the head of one of the men in the back." She set her phone down, looking disgusted. "Gross."

“Okay, so no raw meat.” Theon pursed his lips, trying to think. “Chocolate, of course, that’s always a good idea. We could just go to Davos’s Neighborhood Mall and look around?”

"Sounds good with me," Sansa agreed. The two of them left her room, reluctantly leaving Lady behind, and down the halls to Robb's room. "Robb? Can I have your keys?"

He opened the door, handing them to her, and his gaze fell on Theon. He paused, looking like he wanted desperately to say something, but his eyes flicked back to Sansa, looking questioningly up at him, and he faltered.

"Have fun," he said simply, and closed the door again.

Theon went out to the car with Sansa, snickering when he saw the backseat covered in empty blue flavor Dragonade bottles. “He really couldn’t just throw them out?”

"He was with Jon all day yesterday," she said. "That's probably what the whole mess is from," and rather than actually explaining anything, this merely inspired mental imagines of Robb and Jon shotgunning Dragonade in the backseat.

“Wild.” Theon snorted, shaking his head. They chatted as she drove to the mall, about a thirty minute drive away, and he was pleased by how easy it was to talk to Sansa. They got a decent parking spot, and both were pretty happy as they walked in together.

“So, that Joffrey kid- your boyfriend- he’s coming for dinner tonight?”

"Yes! Mom is making something fancy to impress him," Sansa giggled. "I begged her to." They strolled past a Davos and Buster's, Davos's Sporting Goods, and the Iron Throne furniture store. She peeked in shop windows, checking for sales and gift ideas.

Theon didn’t see anything of interest until they passed a darkly painted and dimly lit store with a whole array of odd junk on display in the window. One of the things was a mug that said “I love your for your personality, but that cock is a really nice bonus.” He snorted upon seeing it, pointing it out to Sansa.

"Do you think he would find it funny?" she asked dubiously. "That store is so weird, Theon."

“I think he’d get a good laugh out of it. Theon nodded, gaze sliding to a stuffed bear on another shelf, the bear wearing a shirt that said ‘You’re my favorite pain in the ass’ with a heart below the words. “Oh, that’s great.” He snickered, leading Sansa into the store. It reeked of weed, and he could see a wall of cheap sex toys toward the back.

It was extremely cramped with displays placed in the middle of walkways, and Sansa was visibly uncomfortable in her floral dress. A heavyset man dressed in a death metal tshirt and cut-off jeans pushed past her, heading for the kinkier sex toys. Sansa picked up a leather collar that read 'daddy's slut' in silver letters.

"Collars? For sex?" she said in disbelief. "People like that?"

Theon laughed aloud. “Gonna get that for Joffrey?” He teased, though his mind wandered. He still had a collar in his nightstand back home, brown and leather from when he and Robb went shopping a while back. He’d forgotten about it.

"Definitely not," Sansa said, pulling her hand back from it. "He... I don't like it." She turned to him. "Are you getting that mug?"

Theon nodded it, heading back toward the front of the store to grab both the mug and the bear. “Yeah, I’m gonna.” He brought them to the register.

“Are you sure you didn’t want two mugs?” The cashier, a scrawny man with greasy hair and large gauges in his ears, asked.

“Um, yeah. This is all, thanks.” Theon glanced over at Sansa.

“Allllright.” The man shrugged, scanning the two items and putting them in a plastic bag. “Suit yourself!”

Theon handed him to cash, took the change and his bag, and quickly left the store with Sansa.

"Why was he asking if you wanted two?" Sansa asked in a hushed voice as they hurried out. "Like he thought it was weird that you didn't?"

“Dude was probably high as fuck.” Theon shrugged, looking rather confused himself. “I don’t know, that store is always really weird.”

Sansa silently agreed. They walked along, passing the jewelry shop and the food court. "Did you want to look for anything else?" she asked, bending to look at a display of fancy watches.

“Yeah, I kind of wanted to get him chocolates too.” Theon said thoughtfully. “Were you gonna get stuff for Joffrey?”

"I think so," Sansa said. "He really likes gold jewelry... Mind if we go in here?"

“Gold? Girl, how much money do you have to spend?” Theon’s eyes widened. He had a good amount of money in his bank account from his family in the past, inheritance and birthday gifts and whatnot, but he couldn’t go around buying gold for Valentine’s Day.

"I've been saving up for a long time," Sansa said, blushing deeply. "Not something like this, anyways," she said, her gaze lingering longingly on the golden watch. "Something smaller. I was thinking, maybe... a promise ring."

Theon nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’d be cute.” He agreed, waking through the store with her.

Sansa went right to the display of rings, studying each one (and its price tag) before she stopped at one. It was a simple round band, the thin gold loop adorned with little, but the metal was molded in a loose-looking knot. A pair of tiny gems, a ruby and a diamond, were set on either side of the knot. As she crouched down to look at it, an attendant bustled over.

"Ah, the forget-me-knot ring!" he said, delighted. "A fine choice!" Looking at Theon, he addressed him, "A matching set?"

“Huh?” Theon furrowed his brows, taking a minute to realize what the attendant was implying. “Oh! No- she’s- she’s like my little sister, man, no. We’re helping each other shop for gifts for our boyfriends.”

"I see, I see" the attendant said, nodding along. "Miss, would you like to take a better look at the ring?"

"Yes, please," Sansa said eagerly. He took it out of the case and set it gently on the glass counter.

"We do offer a discount when you buy them in sets," he told her. "We offer custom engravings, or you can take it the way it is."

"The way it is is fine," Sansa said, holding the ring. He nodded again and pulled out another from a velvet box behind the counter.

"Of course, miss. Are you interested in the set?"

"Yes. How much is it?"

The man looked her up and down, taking in her age, before flicking his gaze briefly to Theon, who stood behind her, watching everything carefully, rather like a bodyguard. "Normally, miss, they sell for around $600 a pair," he said, and her face fell slightly, but he leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "I can sell it to you discounted, but the lowest I can go is $525."

"That's– Are you sure? Thank you so much!" she cried. He smiled at her, wrapping the two rings in a soft cloth and packing them away into a little box.

"I can ring it up as damaged merchandise," he told her, and he did just that. As she paid, looking wondrous at her fortune, the attendant turned to Theon. "Anything you were interested in, sir?"

Theon didn’t miss the way the attendant looked at them, or the shock on his face when Sansa actually had the money for it. He was appreciative for the discount, however, and crossed his arms over his chest as he thought about it. “Actually, I don’t think my boyfriend is awfully fond of jewelry. He wears this really gay earring sometimes-“ Theon snickered at the thought of the garnet earring, the shape of a red teardrop that Ramsay often wore in his right ear. “But yeah, that’s about it. Thanks for asking though.”

"Have a nice day," the attendant told them both as they left. Sansa slipped the box into her purse, face lit with joy. They went next to Davos's Fine Chocolates, a little store wedged in between Davos Footwear and Forever Davos.

“It’s sweet of you to spend so much for Joffrey.” Theon mused as they began looking at the shelves of chocolates.

"I know it seems silly, but... Can you keep a secret?" She looked pleadingly at Theon. "We've been secretly dating for almost a year. Our mothers don't care much for one another, but he's so kind, and I think he loves me... and I think I love him." She turned away, concealing her blushing cheeks by pretending to look at a bin of foil-wrapped truffles.

Theon smiled sweetly at the redhead, feeling a flutter of happiness in his chest. Sansa really did seem like a little sister to him, and hearing her so happy made him happy as well. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” He promised, looking at the different flavors in large packs on the wall and then to the Valentine’s Day display.

"Thank you," she said in relief. "I think mom would be upset that we kept it from her." Hoping to change the subject, she looked around. "Oh, these are cute!" she cried, walking over to a display of chocolate letters, with which you could create a custom message for your significant other.

“Oh! They are!” Theon followed her over, smiling as he looked at them. “I don’t want to get Ramsay something cheesy, but these are... really cute.”

"What other kinds were you looking at?" Sansa asked, wandering over to the bigger Valentine's display, showcasing chocolate roses, heart-shaped truffles with creamy chocolate filling, and chocolate-covered strawberries.

“All of them, really. I like all the Valentine’s stuff, the hearts and whatnot, I’m just not sure...” Theon sighed. “It’s also our one month. It would be cute to do ‘I love you’ in chocolates, but it’s probably too early for that. What do you think?”

"Maybe just get some of these?" Sansa suggested, gesturing towards the strawberries. "I can't tell you for sure whether it's too soon or not, but just to be safe..."

“Good idea.” Theon smiled, picking up a heart shaped box full of chocolate covered strawberries. “Are you getting anything?”

"Yes," Sansa said, "I'm going to get mom some strawberries. Dad always got them for her." She picked out a box, then added a chocolate rose after a second's thought.

“That’s really sweet.” Theon said as they walked to the register. They paid for their things, grabbed a quick snack at the food court, and pretty soon they were back out in Sansa’s car. “Do we have to pick up your Joffrey, or is he getting dropped off at the house?”

"Cersei is dropping him off," she replied, munching on her Uncle Davos's hot pretzel.

“Alright, cool.” Theon tossed one of his Five Davos’s fries into his mouth, relaxing back into the seat as Sansa started driving.

They chatted about meaningless things, catching each other up on their relationships, until Sansa was pulling into their driveway. As they walked inside, carrying their respective bags, they were hit with the delicious aroma of dinner cooking. Sansa peeked into the kitchen.

"Ooh, she's making chicken cacciatore?" she said excitably. "Joff loves that!"

“No idea what that is, but it smells great.” Theon grinned. “Also, Sansa, do you have any gift bags I could use? I didn’t think to buy one.”

"Of course!" They went up to her room, stopping first at Robb's room to drop off his keys, and again he looked at Theon with a burning desire to say something, and again he said nothing.

In Sansa's room, she delved into her closet and pulled a bag down from the shelf. "Will this work?" she asked. The bag was simple; pale pink with small red hearts like polka dots, and silky red ribbons for handles.

“Yeah, that’d be great! Thank you, Sansa.” Theon took the bag and headed off to his own room. He didn’t come back down again until he heard Catelyn call for dinner. He saw Sansa had changed into more formal clothes and felt a tad guilty for being dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

The table was set with a big bowl of linguine, a steaming dish of chicken cacciatore, and a couple of sliced loaves of flaky homemade bread. Joffrey and Sansa were talking quietly to each other, not sitting down yet, but Catelyn and Robb had taken their seats at each end of the table, and Arya was watching Joffrey like a distrustful hawk from her seat to the left of Robb.

Once everyone was sat down, Joffrey stepped over to the table, pulling out Sansa’s seat for her. He waited for her to sit before sitting down himself. “This all looks very good, Mrs. Stark.”

"Thank you, Joffrey," Catelyn said. "Please, call me Catelyn." She watched fondly as Sansa gave him a glowing look. Sansa's hands were clasped in her lap, and the weight of the little box was warm and comforting in her dress pocket.

They all filled their plates, Arya still glaring at Joffrey all the while. Shaggydog and Queenie were both under the table, hoping for scraps- Queenie was still just a little pup, and Shaggydog just didn’t give half a fuck about table manners.

Rickon was eating his chicken and also passing scraps to Shaggy beneath the table, which Theon was getting a kick out of. He tried not to laugh, able to hear the dog chewing.

“I almost forgot you told me you had so many dogs.” Joffrey said, his voice a tad condescending. “I always heard it wasn’t good to feed them from the table.”

"He shouldn't be," Sansa said, throwing Rickon a sharp look. "He does know better. My Lady is upstairs, in my room, if you would like to meet her later."

Joffrey wiggled his nose in disgust. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’m grateful we have none of these beasts in my house.”

Theon normally would’ve turned to Robb to give him a ‘what the fuck is this kids problem?’ look, and he almost instinctively did, but he stopped himself.

Theon didn't need to, however, as every person around the table stopped and gave Joffrey an incredulous look. Arya's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to say something when Sansa kicked her under the table. Instead, Arya ground her knife through the meat, scowling, as though the tender chicken was Joffrey's face.

"That's right, your brother has a cat? Ser Pounce? I'm sure a dog would just be troublesome," Sansa said airily, trying to salvage the situation despite her own misgivings.

Joffrey scoffed. “Ser Pounce is a nightmare. All he does is ruin the furniture and take up space.” He looked around the table, at the six Starks and Theon. “Speaking of space, this table seems a tad cramped. It must’ve been a nightmare having family dinners before your father died.”

Theon choked on his food, covering his mouth as he swallowed it back down, eyes wide in surprise. Rickon’s big blue eyes welled up with tears and he let out a loud wail, and Theon scooted his chair closer to the youngest Stark to gently rub his back in attempt to calm him down.

Bran looked shocked. He didn’t have anything to say, he could only stare at Joffrey.

Shaggydog growled from under the table, backing out just a bit to stand protectively in front of Rickon’s chair.

Sansa's jaw dropped; she stared wordlessly at Joffrey, while Arya looked about a second away from climbing over the table and stabbing his eyes out with her fork.

"Get out of my house right now," Catelyn said fiercely. Robb stood, shoving his chair back so hard it hit the wall, and he grabbed Joffrey by the shirt collar, hauling him out of the dining room and out of sight. A moment later, the door slammed and Robb returned, fuming, dropping back into his seat and resuming his meal with a vengeance, stabbing at the chicken. Sansa just looked stunned, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Rickon had climbed onto Theon’s lap and was clinging to his shirt as he cried, wailing about how he missed his daddy. Theon gently combed his fingers through his hair, murmuring the best comforts he could think of as he gave Sansa a sympathetic look across the table. He’d spent all afternoon with her and she’d seemed so happy to talk about Joffrey, he could only imagine how hurt she felt now.

Sansa slowly picked up her plate and silverware and carried it to the kitchen, stopping briefly to feed Shaggydog the remainder of the chicken on her plate, and she retreated to her room. The little box in her pocket suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, and she drew it out with a shaking hand to set it in the drawer of her nightstand. Joff... Joffrey had...

She exhaled, closing her eyes and falling back against her pillows. Lady whimpered, hopping onto the bed and licking her cheek comfortingly. She wrapped her arms around her dog, burying her fingers into her thick fur, and cried. 'Who the hell hates animals?' she thought in disgust. He was horrible, mean, and she never wanted to see him again.

Her phone was ringing on her nightstand, and she answered it without a glance, only realizing a moment later that it might be Joffrey.

"Hello?" she asked warily, her voice scratchy from crying. "Margaery? Hi..." She rolled over onto her side, cuddling against Lady. "He called you? ...No, that's... No, he..." She launched into an explanation of the night's events, and it felt nice to vent to somebody who knew them, knew how Joffrey was, and by the time they were saying goodnight and Sansa was hanging up, she felt content in simply texting Joffrey,

'We're over.'


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been waiting to post this chapter for a looooooong time -m

Theon had woken Ramsay up with soft kisses, carefully straddling his sleepy boyfriend as those icy blue eyes slowly opened. Ramsay looked up at him with a lazy smile, and Theon felt his heart jump a little in his chest. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.” Theon leaned down, softly kissing along Ramsay’s jaw. Ramsay hummed softly, completely relaxed and happy to just let Theon do what he wanted. Theon softly ground his ass down against Ramsay’s crotch, glad for his boyfriend’s habit of sleeping in the nude. Theon had slept naked as well, he always did in Ramsay’s bed. 

“Mm, happy Valentine’s Day.” Ramsay murmured, reaching up to loosely hold Theon’s hips. 

Theon’s own cock was already half-hard and he could feel Ramsay’s getting harder beneath him. 

“I already prepped myself, Rams,” he purred, hands splayed out atop Ramsay’s chest. “Before I woke you up. I wanted to be good and ready for you, so you wouldn’t have to wait.” He softly kissed Ramsay on the lips, admiring how beautiful his boyfriend looked laying on the bed, light streaming in through the window and acting like a spotlight. 

“You plan on riding me, baby?” Ramsay drawled, a lazy smile still on his lips. Theon nodded, kissing Ramsay again, their lips moving softly together. 

“Once you’re hard.” Theon affirmed, reaching back behind him to wrap his fingers around Ramsay’s hardening cock. “I’m all lubed up and everything, just for you.” 

Ramsay groaned softly, cock twitching in Theon’s grip, and Theon decided that Ramsay was hard enough. He carefully positioned himself so that Ramsay’s cock head was rubbing against his hole, and slowly began to sink down. 

His hands curled into fists resting on Ramsay’s chest as he took more and more inside him, letting out tiny whimpers and closing his eyes. Ramsay reached up to gently stroke along Theon’s arms, relaxing him. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so good. Good boy.” 

Theon whimpered, his cock twitching at the praise as he finally took all of Ramsay’s cock inside him, sitting and gently rocking on his lap. “Ramsay,” He gasped, looking down at his boyfriend. “You feel so good, Rams.”

“Mm, so do you.” Ramsay’s hands traveled back down to grip his waist, admiring the fading bruises from their past rough fucking sessions. “You’re so tight, Theon.”

Theon was practically beaming, lopsided smile bright and happy on his face. He only needed a moment to adjust before he slowly lifted himself off Ramsay’s cock and then lowered back down again. 

It was bliss, Theon thought, to be lazily riding his boyfriend’s thick cock, to feel the drag of the head against his prostate, to be able to look down at Ramsay’s beautiful face and know that the pleased, mesmerized look was because of him. 

“Drowned fuck, Rams.” Theon moaned softly, leaning down to kiss him as he rode his cock. “Fuck, I never want to stop riding this cock. I never want to stop fucking, Rams, you feel so good. Your cock feels so good. Fuck, you’re so handsome, Rams.” He murmured against his lips. 

“And you’re my pretty little boyfriend. Such a good boy, too.” Ramsay’s voice was a low purr and the praise made Theon shiver. Ramsay continued to praise him, showering him with affection as Theon rode him to completion, shuddering and gasping and moaning Ramsay’s name as his cock twitched and spilt come on both of them. Ramsay came almost immediately after, unable to resist the feeling of Theon’s ass milking his cock, his come pumping deep inside him. Theon’s body was flushed, cheeks pink as he carefully maneuvered himself to be laying chest-to-chest with Ramsay, both of them on their sides, with Ramsay’s cock still inside him. 

Theon nuzzled his face up against the crook of Ramsay’s neck, planting gentle kisses all along it. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Theon said again, murmuring so Ramsay could feel his lips moving against his skin. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Ramsay replied softly, playing with Theon’s hair. 

“I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“We don’t have to.”

“Rams?”

“Yes?” Ramsay looked down at him. 

“Thank you for behind my boyfriend.” 

Theon looked flustered, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and Ramsay found it endearing. 

“No, Theon. Thank you.” 

They fell back asleep quite literally pressed together, and ended up going to school late once they finally woke up. 

Theon had kept his gifts for Ramsay in their bag in his backpack, not wanting to give them to him until they got to school. By the time they actually got there, they only had one class and then lunch. He fumbled around with his backpack during lunch, finally pulling out the gift bag which now was slightly wrinkled and handing it to him. 

"Is this for me?" Ramsay asked, eager anticipation written in his face. He took the bag, setting it gently on the table, before diving into his own schoolbag and taking out a much smaller gift bag, handing it to Theon.

Theon nodded, smiling brightly and taking the tissue paper out of the bag. There was a small black box inside, and when he opened it, there was a teardrop-shaped garnet on a golden chain, one that perfectly matched Ramsay’s earring. His face lit up, heart swelling in his chest. “Rams!” He looked affectionately at his boyfriend. “Drowned God, you didn’t have to. Thank you so much.” 

"I'm glad you like it," Ramsay said, helping Theon put the necklace on. He made eye contact with Robb across the cafeteria, smirked, and mouthed 'mine' at him. Robb's eyes narrowed and he looked away. He had tried unsuccessfully to speak to Theon twice already that day, and both times Theon had blown him off the moment Ramsay's name passed his lips. Theon had told Ramsay about both occurrences, of course.

Ramsay settled the chain around Theon's neck, his fingers lingering over the soft skin of his throat, before he drew back and picked up his own gift bag. He pulled out the chocolate strawberries, the mug, and the stuffed bear with joy, laughing over the bear's shirt and the mug, and he moaned lustily over the taste of the dark chocolate and the sweetness of the fruit. 

"Thank you, babe. I love them."

“I’m so glad- I mean, it wasn’t as expensive as what you got me, but I’m so glad you like them!” Theon was positively beaming, and he leaned over to wrap his arms around Ramsay, pulling him into a tight hug and leaning in to kiss him. He was oblivious to Robb watching from across the room, just happy to be holding his boyfriend. 

"Price doesn't matter, babe. What's the point of having money if you can't spend it on your boyfriend?" Ramsay pressed one chaste kiss to Theon's lips before kissing him more deeply, fully aware of Robb's continued gaze and smirking because of it.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Theon murmured, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to look into Ramsay’s eyes. “I’m so lucky to have you.” 

"Not as lucky as I am," Ramsay murmured, holding Theon's face in his hands, brushing his thumb lightly over his cheek. "You are my most important person."

Theon’s eyes glimmered in the shitty fluorescent lighting as he smiled at his boyfriend, unable to resist leaning in and kissing him again. His heart felt so full yet so light and happy, and the chain around his neck reminded him of the soft caress of Ramsay’s fingers. 

"I love you," Ramsay murmured, voice soft and breath sweet against Theon's lips.

Theon’s breath caught in his throat and he felt his heart swell, butterflies in his stomach, like a dumb kid with a crush. Ramsay loved him. He loved him. Theon felt like he was on top of the world, like he’d never feel sad again. “I love you too.” He murmured back, trying not to smile too much. 

"Good," Ramsay chuckled, kissing him again, just a brief brush of his lips against Theon's, before he withdrew.

Theon was disappointed when Ramsay pulled away, and even more so when the bell rang. The next class was one of the ones he didn’t share with Ramsay-or with Robb- but he couldn’t skip it as he was failing. Ramsay still walked him to class, Theon holding onto his arm, and Theon reluctantly kissed him goodbye before heading off into the classroom. 

Robb dawdled on his way to gym class, knowing that he shared it with Bolton, and he lingered in the locker room long after the other boys had changed and left. He thought he was alone, but as he turned to finally leave, he was face to face with none other than Bolton.

“Well, if it isn’t the young wolf.” Ramsay grinned wickedly at Robb, amused by the look he was given by the Stark. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” 

"Yeah?" Robb said dismissively, trying to push past him. "Well, I don't want to talk to you."

Ramsay put out his arm, pushing Robb back. “Really? It’s about Theon.” 

"You've told me all I need to know about Theon," Robb said stiffly, glaring at him.

“He told me he loved me at lunch today. He really is quite cute. It’s a shame you missed out on it.” Ramsay’s grin slowly widened. “Though, as cute as he may be, I am tiring of playing nice.” 

"Don't you dare," hissed Robb, slapping Ramsay's arm away from him. "If you're getting tired of him, leave him. Don't you dare hurt him."

“But Stark, it’s not our dear Theon I’m tired of.” Ramsay pretended to look offended. “I would never tire of him. No, it’s being the perfect, good boyfriend that I grow tired of.” 

"Then leave him." Robb glared at him. "Don't play. Don't drag him through the mud. Show your true colors, and get lost."

“No, no, little wolf, you don’t seem to understand. Is your skull truly that thick?” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps I will show my true colors. Tonight. When I have him alone, all trusting and vulnerable. And he will stay with me, little wolf, and I won’t be leaving him.” He took a step back. “Anyway, I should be getting to class.” He turned and briskly exited the locker room. 

Robb stayed put, heart pounding. What exactly was Ramsay planning to do? What was he going to do to Theon? He cast his gaze around wildly, searching for Ramsay's bag. Phones weren't allowed in the gym, so it would be.... There!

He seized the back, rifling through it and grabbing Ramsay's phone out of an inner pocket. 

'meet me in the first floor bathroom by the gym', he texted Theon. With one cursory glance into the gym, he slipped out the side door into the hall, and dashed down to wait in the bathroom for Theon. He had to warn him, had to save him before Ramsay could do anything.

Theon smiled to himself at the message, getting up and signing out with the excuse of going to the bathroom. He hurried downstairs, excited to see his boyfriend again, and was sorely disappointed when he entered the bathroom and instead found Robb Stark. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Theon snapped. “Did you fucking hack into Ramsay’s phone or something?“

"Would you have agreed to see me if I hadn't?" Robb challenged. Theon had looked so excited, so genuinely happy as he came into the bathroom to see Ramsay. The thought made Robb sick.

Theon glared at him. “No. What do you want?” 

"I've been trying to talk to you— I need to talk to you." Robb took a step towards him, desperate eyes trained on Theon's face. "Will you please just listen to me?"

“If it’s about Ramsay, I don’t want to hear it.” Theon snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a step back. 

"It's not just Bolton. I'm worried about you. I'm trying to help you, Thee. Bolton just cornered me in the locker room, he said he's tired of playing nice. He's going to do something, Thee."

Theon sneered, shaking his head. “You expect me to believe you? You really fucking expect me to? Listen, Stark,” His voice was sharp. “Listen. Ramsay- or, Bolton, if you prefer- he plays nicer than you ever have. He doesn’t use me. He holds me after we fuck, I wake up and he’s still with me in bed. He said he loved me. I told him I love him. You’re nothing, Stark. You’ve been trying to ruin my relationship since it started and I’m so fucking sick of it. Leave me alone. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone.” He turned around and stormed out of the bathroom, pulling out his phone and texting Ramsay furiously. 

"Theon, wait!" Robb called, but Theon was already gone, and in his fury, he punched the wall. "You need to listen to me," he sobbed, frustrated and anxious. "He's going to kill you."

The rest of the day went well enough, despite all of Robb’s annoying looks and attempts to talk to him. He went out to dinner with Ramsay, who paid for everything. By the time they got back to Ramsay’s house, Theon was warm and happy, ready to curl up in bed with his boyfriend and fall asleep. 

“Please, Rams, Not now. I’m so tired.” Theon looked at his boyfriend, who had him pinned against the door, lips red and puffy from kissing. He’d slammed Theon against the door the second he got into the bedroom, kissing him like his life depended on it. He had one hand against Theon’s chest, the other fumbling to remove his pants. 

“What do you mean ‘not now’?” Ramsay questioned, lascivious grin playing on his lips. “You’re my boyfriend, Theon, my gorgeous, beautiful boyfriend who always feels so good around my cock.”

Theon almost melted at the praise, but quickly remembered the soreness between his legs. “But I don’t want to, Rams, I’m still sore from this morning!”

“You loved this morning.” Ramsay leaned in, kissing and sucking at his neck, enjoying the strained moan it earned him from his boyfriend. His hands worked at Theon’s jeans, pushing them down his hips, letting them pool on the floor before going to do the same with his own. 

“Yeah, because it felt good!” Theon protested, voice raising an octave higher. “But I don’t want it now!” 

“Keep bitching and I’ll fuck you without prepping you first.”

“Rams-!”

“Fine, I won’t use lube either.”

Theon thrashed against Ramsay, his boyfriend practically a wall of muscle keeping him pinned against the door. “No, Ramsay, please don’t. I just want to go to bed. Can we just go to sleep? Please?” Hints of desperation were beginning to show in his voice. 

“You know, you’re saying no, but I do recall you saying something different this morning. ‘I never want you to stop fucking me,’ or something else whorish like that. And then you decided it would be fun to tease me in the bathroom during class, grinding that hot little ass up against me.” Ramsay bit down at his neck and sucked, drawing blood to the surface of his skin. 

Theon groaned, still trying to get Ramsay off of him. His boyfriend was right, he had said something like that, and he had taunted him in the bathroom when he was supposed to be in English. “But Ramsay, I don’t want to now, please, I just want to sleep!”

Ramsay’s grin was wicked and so was the look in his eyes. 

“Well then, it’s good that I don’t care what you want.” He slapped Theon across the face to stop him from responding before practically throwing him without warning onto the bed. Theon turned onto his back, eyes wide as he watched Ramsay walk over to him with that same wicked look still on his face. He froze up, and he didn’t try to run away or fight it. Not until he realized Ramsay was serious about his threats of no prep and no lube. He yelled kraken, but the safeword had lost its meaning. 

The hunting dogs outside spent the night howling along to the screams and sobs coming from inside the house. 

The next morning, the bedsheets had a brand new flower of red stained into their center, yet Ramsay still woke up to the feeling of Theon’s lips pressed against his own. He watched from the shadows later that day as he watched Theon limp through the hallways at school, a lightly colored bruise on his cheek. A grin was glued to his face all day, but no one dared ask why. He was in such a good mood that if they had, he might’ve even told them.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello,,,, i am,,,,,, hungery,,, 4 comments,,, pls,,, tell me what u think..... -m

The day after he and Ramsay’s one month anniversary, the day after Valentine’s Day, and Theon was going home with the Starks for the first time in weeks. He’d told Ramsay that he had something going on, but in reality, he was scared of what Ramsay might do if he went home with him again. He’d held himself together all day, thankful for no one asking about his limp, going to all his classes so he had something to distract him, work to do, a reason not to talk to Ramsay. He still talked to his boyfriend, of course, but it was much less frequent, and he was a lot more hesitant. When Ramsay reached to hold his hand, his initial reaction was to flinch. He’d been shaking each time Ramsay kissed him. 

He hoped Robb hadn’t seen. Or Jon, or Sansa. He didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. Ramsay hadn’t done anything wrong, really, it was Theon’s fault for not communicating clearly enough. He was scared if Robb or Jon saw, they’d blame Ramsay, they’d think Ramsay did something wrong or hurt Theon. And yeah, he did hurt Theon. He scared him and hurt him but Theon knew it wasn’t Ramsay’s fault, it was just a miscommunication, Ramsay hadn’t meant to hurt him. 

He thought about the way Ramsay laughed when Theon screamed as he fucked him without any preparation. He felt his whole body shudder at the memory. He swore he could still feel it. Ramsay’s cock pounding relentlessly inside of him, tearing him open. He still felt open, spread and torn, still felt hands on his hips and teeth on his neck. He could still hear himself screaming ‘kraken’ over and over and the image of Ramsay’s wicked smile was burned into his mind. The scary thought that he’d seen no hesitation and no remorse in those icy blue eyes. 

So maybe Ramsay had meant to hurt him, but it wasn’t because he wanted to, that just wouldn’t make sense. No, Ramsay liked him, Ramsay really cared about him, and Theon caused a miscommunication that caused Ramsay to do something that hurt Theon. Theon tried to understand, he really did, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at Ramsay. He was angry with himself for saying and doing things that confused his boyfriend. 

It had been their anniversary. It had been Valentine’s Day, and they’d had such a lovely morning together, went out for a wonderful dinner. They’d shared so many passionate kisses, they’d slept in with their limbs tangled together. It had been such a good day, a perfect day, until they got back to Ramsay’s room after dinner. He hadn’t slept at all, crying until it was time to get up and ready for school. He’d kissed Ramsay when he woke, trying to be gentle and affectionate, trying to apologize silently in hopes that Ramsay would acknowledge the fact that he’d hurt Theon. He hadn’t. 

And anyway, Ramsay loved him. Ramsay didn’t really, truly want to hurt him. Ramsay loved him, and he’d told him so. The gentle weight of the garnet necklace around his throat was proof of that. 

Something nagged in the back of his head, a nasty little voice that hissed ‘you should have listened to Robb,’ and it made Theon feel sick. No, Robb just wanted him to leave Ramsay because he was angry and jealous. Ramsay hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Ramsay just suffered from his father’s poor reputation. Robb’s worried glances and desperate pleas to talk to him meant nothing. He was just mad Theon didn’t want him anymore. But Ramsay, Ramsay wanted Theon and Theon wanted Ramsay. He was just so hurt and confused and, if he was being honest, he really didn’t understand why Ramsay had to hurt him so bad. 

He was silent the whole ride home, staring blankly out the window and blocking out the conversations of the Starks going on in the van around him. He held it together until he got up to the top of the stairs, and then the breakdown he’d been fighting off all day hit him full force. He wasn’t sure why, but he ran to Robb’s room instead of his own, closing the door behind him and dropping his bag on the floor before going to sit on the bed, clutching one of Robb’s pillows to his chest, knees bent up so he could hide his face against them. 

And then he was sobbing. 

Everything hurt so bad. 

His neck hurt from the harsh bites, his hips from Ramsay’s bruising grip, his face from the light bruise where Ramsay had slapped him. His ass hurt horribly, Ramsay had torn him, he’d seen the blood on the sheets afterward. His throat hurt from screaming all night, and his heart hurt worst of all. He kept trying to convince himself it was fine, it was okay, but now that he was alone he couldn’t keep it up. 

Theon was a wreck, sobbing into the pillow. It smelled like Robb, like that stupid Grey Mists body wash and sweat and wolf, and it smelled faintly of Jeyne’s fruity perfume. The latter made him feel sick and he threw the pillow aside, clutching his knees to his chest again, hiding his face against them as he sobbed. 

It was muffled enough that no one could hear it outside of the room, and for that he was thankful. The last thing he wanted was for someone to walk in while he was holding himself and sobbing on Robb’s bed, choking on his own tears and wishing the day before had never happened. He bit down on the fabric of his jeans covering his knee to muffle any loud sobs that threatened to escape. 

The last thing Theon wanted, naturally, was the thing to happen, and in the worst way. Robb himself pushed open the door, looking thoroughly drained. His eyes widened as he lay eyes upon Theon, and he dropped his bag to the floor. 

"Thee?" Robb said curiously, slowly taking in Theon's distressed state. He moved to the bed and knelt beside it, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but pausing just before he could touch him.

Theon flinched away from the touch, trying to calm himself down but finding it only made it worse as he struggled not to sob louder. He didn’t know why he’d come to Robb’s room, he felt so stupid, but it was too late now and all he could do was sit there and cry. 

"Theon, what happened?" Robb asked softly, his hand dropping to the mattress. He had a sinking feeling and he knew exactly who had done this, but what? What had Bolton done?

Theon just shook his head, his heart aching and his stomach twisting. He felt the mattress dip with Robb’s weight as he sat beside him, and despite his earlier flinching, he found he really wanted nothing more than for Robb to just hold him. He didn’t move to get any closer, however, and he kept his face hidden against his knees. “I- I-“ He stammered, cutting off and shaking his head. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t. 

"You don't have to tell me right away," Robb said, "just breathe. Try to relax." He hesitantly reached for him again, rubbing his back in soothing motions, relieved when Theon did not pull away.

Theon hesitated but soon leaned into the touch. He kept shaking his head, as if that would somehow explain the situation. He wondered if Robb had seen his limp. He wondered if Robb had seen the bruises on his neck and on his face. 

"Can you sit up?" asked Robb, trying to coax Theon into doing so.

Theon reluctantly let go of his knees, stretching his legs out and looking miserably over to Robb before dropping his gaze back down to his lap. “I didn’t wanna.” He mumbled, barely audible between sobs. 

Robb pulled him into a hug, holding him close, and feeling dampness spread where Theon's face pressed into his shoulder. "Whatever happened, you're safe now," he assured him, voice soft and gentle.

Theon still felt a bit nervous about the touch but didn’t fight it, glad for the comfort, glad that he could hide his face again. “I said no.” He mumbled, muffled by Robb’s shirt but loud enough to hear this time. 

Robb's heart thrummed an anxious rhythm in his chest. "Said no to what, Thee?" he murmured, though he already knew.

Theon just shook his head and pressed himself closer to Robb, as if it would somehow make him forget what had happened the night before. “H-he- it’s-“ He stammered and sobbed, struggling to get the words out. “It’s not his- not his fault, I- but- it was just miscommunication, but it hurt, Robb, it hurt!” His stammering turned into a low, quiet wail. 

Wrapping his arms more firmly around him, Robb laid a tender kiss on the top of Theon's head. "Whatever happened, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault, Thee. You haven't done a thing wrong."

“No, no, no.” Theon moaned pitifully. “I- he thought I wanted it, it’s not his fault, h-he wouldn’t want to hurt me, he loves me, he said so.” 

"Theon, he lied to you," Robb said, pained. "If you said no, and he thought you wanted it, he's an idiot. He raped you."

Theon flinched violently at the word and shook his head frantically. “No, no, he wouldn’t, it- it was just a misunderstanding- he wouldn’t-“ He cut himself off with a sob, clutching at Robb’s shirt. It had been rather forceful, and Theon wasn’t sure how Ramsay was able to get off while he was screaming and sobbing. He was fairly sure that if you loved someone, you’d do anything to stop their crying, not make it worse. But Ramsay hadn’t meant to hurt him, he couldn’t have, even though it sure seemed like Ramsay knew exactly what he was doing. 

"If he loved you, he wouldn't hurt you. You know that, right? Deep down. You deserve better." Robb rubbed small circles on Theon's back, coaxing out the sobs, hoping that he would cry himself out.

All of Theon’s hidden insecurities were bubbling up, and no, he didn’t think he deserved better. He was an asshole. His dad and sister always said so. He abandoned his sister to take care of their dying mother on her own. He was a dumbass, skipping and failing almost all his classes. He’d slept with Kyra over and over and she’d fallen in love with him and he’d rejected her. He’d slept with Jon Snow and pretended it was Robb instead. He felt sick, self loathing dark and heavy and swirling in his gut. “‘S my fault.” Theon sobbed. “I- Robb, it hurt. I bled. So much.” He could still feel the pain, aching between his legs. 

"It's not your fault!" Robb said, hating Ramsay. "This is what he does, Theon, he hurts people! His friends, they call themselves the Bastard's Boys, and they gang up and they... Theon, he's dangerous, he thrives on hurting people. It's not your fault."

“He hit me.” Theon tried to get closer to Robb, as if he were trying to hide from something. “H-he’s never- he didn’t-“ It felt so vulgar, so disgusting to talk about it to Robb, as if he and Robb hadn’t seen every part of each other before. As if Theon didn’t talk about sex all the time. It was different, it was violent and forceful and it hurt, and he felt filthy. “He didn’t use lube or prep me or anything,” he blurted out, feeling sicker as he talked about it. 

In his rage, Robb's arms tightened around Theon for the briefest second before loosening to a better comfort level for Theon. 

"I'm going to kill him," he swore. "I'll kill him for hurting you."

“No- you can’t! He- he didn’t mean it, he wouldn’t, he’s not- he’s not bad!” Theon insisted, voice cracked and desperate. Ramsay had said he’d loved him. He said it, and he’d looked at Theon so lovingly, and they’d had sex so many times before and it felt good. Theon couldn’t understand, he didn’t know why Ramsay would hurt him. 

"If he loved you, he wouldn't hurt! He is bad, Theon, he's a rapist. Theon, you need to leave him. If you don't, he's just going to keep hurting you," Robb said desperately. He didn't know what to say to Theon to convince him; it was his own fault, of course, he was too late in warning him, and now Ramsay had played true to his word, and Theon was hurt.

Theon flinched again, whimpering pitifully. “He didn’t rape me.” He insisted quietly. The word tasted sour on his tongue. 

"If you said no, and he didn't stop, then he raped you," Robb said firmly, yet not unkindly.

Theon shook his head frantically, taking a deep, shaky breath. His sobs had relaxed a little, but tears were still streaming down his face. He pulled back a tiny bit, reaching up to finger at the garnet necklace around his neck. “Don’t say that, don’t- don’t- he wouldn’t.” 

"But he did! I know that maybe he doesn't seem like the type, but this isn't the first time he's done this," Robb said. "He was kicked out of his old boarding school with his Bastard's Boys for gangraping a girl... He escaped getting arrested because she was too scared to press charges. Theon, he's going to do this again."

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Theon looked up at Robb, blue-green eyes rimmed with red and still flowing with tears. 

"I tried, Theon. I really tried, but every time I mentioned his name you would run off, and I couldn't exactly pin you down and force you to listen. Besides, I..." Robb grit his teeth. "I didn't think he would do that to you."

“Well he did.” Theon’s brows were furrowed but there was no anger in his expression, just hurt and confusion and self loathing. “He- Robb, I don’t know what to do.” 

"You need to leave him." Robb carefully wiped Theon's tears away, dabbing at his eyes with the soft edge of his sweater sleeve. "You deserve better."

“Like what? You?” Theon snapped, regretting it the moment he said it. “Sorry. I’m- fuck, I’m sorry. But-“ He paused, sniffling and shifting his gaze down. “You hurt me, too.” His voice cracked. “How was I supposed to listen? How was I supposed to trust you when you- you-“ He cut off with a frustrated groan, reaching up to rub furiously at his own eyes, wishing he could stop crying. 

Robb pushed Theon's hands out of the way, tilting his chin up with one hand and looking into Theon's streaming eyes. 

"That was a mistake," he said firmly. "I was an idiot, I got drunk and made a mistake, and hurt you in the process. I never wanted it to be like that, and I felt so guilty... I pushed you away to gather my thoughts, but that was even stupider of me, and I lost you because of it." Robb took a deep breath. "I never wanted to hurt you, Thee. You told me you loved me and I got scared, because... I love you, too. I just didn't know how to cope with it at the time."

Theon’s eyes widened and a whole fresh wave of tears began to spill, despite him trying to fight them off. “I can’t- I can’t just leave him.” His voice had softened, almost a whisper. His heart felt like it was breaking all over again and he was so confused, so hurt. 

"If you don't, he's going to keep hurting you. You do know that," Robb said again, dabbing again at Theon's eyes to dry his tears.

“It was just a mistake.” Theon insisted, still not able to really wrap his head around the fact that Ramsay had, in fact, intentionally hurt him. 

"It's only a mistake if it happens once," Robb said, "and I promise you, it won't. This is already the second time for him, at least."

“He said he loved me.” Theon was still looking into Robb’s eyes. “He said- he said it, he said he loved me. Why would he r- why would he, if he loved me?” Theon didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to believe that his boyfriend raped him, didn’t want to believe it was on purpose and Ramsay wanted to hurt him. 

"He lied to you," Robb said gently. "People don't hurt the people they love— not on purpose, not like that."

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Theon murmured, moving back closer to Robb to hide his face against his shoulder. He wanted to lay there with him, to be held and able to just cry until he fell asleep, but he couldn’t. 

Robb didn't answer, but he wrapped his arms around Theon again, pulling him flush against him, trying to emanate as much comfort and love as he possibly could. Theon had to know that he deserved better. He had to. Better than Bolton, better than Robb himself...

Theon nuzzled his face against the nape of Robb’s neck, silently thankful to have his best friend again. He was pretty much sitting on Robb’s lap, and Robb’s arms around him felt safe and warm. The last time he’d felt them... he’d woken up alone. The thought made him have to bite back a sob, shaking slightly in Robb’s arms. 

Sensing Theon's newfound distress, Robb internally panicked. "I'll never hurt you again," he swore. "I'd sooner die."

“I don’t want you to die.” Theon replied, muffled by the way his head was positioned. “I don’t want you to leave, or make me leave, not again.” 

"Never. I never should have pushed you away. I'm so sorry," Robb murmured. Theon was warm in his arms, and he wanted to hold him there forever, to protect him forever. 

Theon wasn’t exactly sure when or how, but they ended up lying in bed, legs tangled together, Theon’s head resting on Robb’s chest. He had a headache from crying, but there was no way he was about to get up. His phone was buzzing on the nightstand but he ignored it, drifting off to sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ramsay bolton starved my children and burned my crops and feedback in the form of comments is the only thing that can save me pls let me know what u think -m

That night was the best night's sleep either one of them would get for a long while. 

They were woken sweetly, with the gentle caress of sunlight over their faces and Grey Wind leaping with all his incredible weight directly on top of them, massive paws driving into their chests. Robb let out a sound like a dying moose, the air driven forcefully from his lungs, feeling as though his ribs had just been shattered. Grey Wind flopped on top of them, wagging his tail furiously, overjoyed to see them together again.

Theon groaned as he woke up, looking at the massive wolf dog in annoyance. “Grey Wind, you’re fucking huge.” He grumbled. From the small opening in the door, Queenie ran in, also jumping onto the bed- which required a little more effort. She climbed over Grey Wind to get to Theon’s face, licking him happily, and he laughed. 

Laughing, Robb threw his arms around Grey Wind's furry neck, kissing him on the nose. "Good morning, buddy. Good morning, Thee." Robb was in a good mood, the best mood he had been in in a long time, and it was all because of his best friend laying beside him.

“Morning.” Theon flashed him a small smile, but it still didn’t fully reach his eyes. He knew what he had to do that day, and he wasn’t looked forward to it. “And morning to you too, Queenie.” He gave the dog a kiss, which resulted her licking all over his face once again. 

"How are you feeling?" Robb asked, turning onto his side to look into Theon's eyes. He was soft and understanding, faces inches apart.

“I’m okay. A little anxious. Still hurts, but I’m fine.” He shrugged, hugging Queenie as he turned his head to look over at Robb. “I’m gonna have to talk to Rams today.” The garnet necklace still hung around his neck, glistening in the light. 

"When are you going to do that?" Robb asked. His blue eyes lingered on the necklace, distaste rich in his gaze. Did Theon know what it meant?

“I should probably do it sooner than later.” Theon sighed, reaching over to fumble for his phone on the nightstand. There were a few texts and missed calls from Ramsay, the texts nothing out of the ordinary. He shot a text saying ‘gotta talk. wanna pick me up in an hour?’

Robb watched, anxious. "Did you want me to bring you? I can wait outside for you."

“No, it’s okay.” Theon assured him as he got a text back saying ‘yes’ and nothing else. “I’ll text you when I figure shit out with him, okay?”

"All right," Robb agreed reluctantly. "Just be careful."

“I will be. Don’t worry. I’m going to shower.” Theon got out of bed, gently placing Queenie on the floor. He took his time, getting dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a t-shirt that he probably stole from Robb at some point. He stopped at Robb’s room again to say goodbye before going outside, feeling panic rising in his gut as he saw Ramsay’s car. He pushed it down and got in. 

As they drove away, Ramsay's speed picking up erratically, his surly expression grew. 

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Ramsay’s speed did nothing to calm Theon’s nerves, and his eyes were wide as he looked at his boyfriend. “N-not yet. It can wait.” 

"No, it can't," Ramsay spat as he blew through a stop sign. "We'll talk now."

Theon flinched at the sharp tone. “Ramsay, you know I don’t like when you drive like this, you know it scares me.” 

"I wouldn't drive like this if you didn't make me so fucking nervous!" Ramsay said, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. He drew in a slow, shuddering breath, visibly calming himself. The speedometer needle dipped down to 35mph. "Please, tell me what the problem is."

Theon felt guilty and anxious but he managed to relax a little bit when the car slowed down. “I- remember two nights ago? The fourteenth?” 

"Our anniversary?" Ramsay asked, face softening. "Of course I do. What about it?"

“When you- um- when we-“ Theon took a deep, shaky breath. “You really, really hurt me, Rams.” 

"I'm sorry, I got... carried away. I never meant to hurt you, babe, you know that. I could never mean to hurt you." Ramsay said this all in a very worried tone, flicking his gaze over to Theon every couple of seconds.

Theon felt his anxiety melt away a bit, and he couldn’t hold anything against Ramsay, not when he was looking at him like that, worried and affectionate. “I- I know, I didn’t think you did, but Robb said... Robb told me stuff.” 

"Stark did?" Ramsay asked, stiffening. "And you listened to him? Do you trust him over me now?"

“I- Ramsay, it’s not like that!” Theon protested. “But he told me- he told me you and your gang- the Bastards or something? He said you- you ganged up on a girl.” 

Ramsay bristled. "My Boys– they... They did, yes. I did not participate... I punished them accordingly, of course. I don't stand for rape."

Theon felt himself relax even more. It wasn’t Ramsay. It was Ramsay’s boys, it wasn’t his Ramsay. He sat in silence for a minute before talking again. “It- from our anniversary- it still hurts.” 

"Was I too rough?" Ramsay glanced at him again, eyes soft and round with care. "I'm sorry, babe... I thought you liked it rough."

“I said no.” Theon mumbled, barely audible, feeling bad for saying it when Ramsay was looking at him with so much concern. 

"Are you really mad at me?" Ramsay said quietly, looking forlorn. He pulled into his driveway, parking, and turned to face Theon. "Are you going to leave me?"

Theon stared wide-eyed at Ramsay. “I just- I- you really hurt me, and I said the safe word and everything, and you just- you kept going! And you didn’t use lube or prep or anything! I- I don’t know, Rams!” Tears were welling up in his eyes and threatening to fall, his face flushed bright red. 

"Come inside, and we'll talk more. Okay?" Ramsay said, lips in a guilty pout. "I think I have to explain some things to you."

“Okay.” Theon nodded quickly, feeling worse when he saw the guilty look on Ramsay’s face. When Ramsay got out of the car he got out as well, following him into the house. When the door closed behind them, he turned to look at Ramsay. “What did you have to tell me?” 

Theon had barely turned, however, before Ramsay was grabbing him and throwing him bodily against the wall. He gasped as he hit the wall, and Ramsay was upon him, lips pulled down into a snarl, fisting Theon's hair and yanking his head back to expose his throat. He was attacking him, biting the soft skin of his throat with none of the old affectionate nibbles. The tang of blood splashed over his tongue.

"You thought you were going to leave me?" Ramsay spat. "Thought you could leave me, and go running back to your precious wolf? Thought he could protect you from the big, bad, Bolton bastard?"

Theon was breathless, shocked, eyes wide. He was frozen in place for a moment before he started fighting against Ramsay, struggling against his grip. “Get- Ramsay- get off me!” He shouted, voice wavering with fear. He should’ve taken Robb’s offer. He should’ve let Robb bring him. If Robb was waiting outside, Ramsay wouldn’t have dared hurt him. Theon was scared by his own weakness, by how much stronger Ramsay was. He couldn’t break free of his grip. 

"Don't you shout at me," Ramsay snapped, striking Theon across the face. "You're mine," he hissed. "Mine! Do I need to remind you?"

“Don’t fucking hit me!” Theon snapped back, tears stinging in the corners of his eyes as Ramsay hit him, the blow landing on the bruise from two days before. His heart was pounding and he tried unsuccessfully to push Ramsay away. 

"Looks like I do." He hit him again, in the mouth this time, and leaned in to kiss the blood from his lips. He shoved him back hard against the wall, his groin flush against Theon's, and he was impossibly hard.

Theon bit at Ramsay’s lip in a way that was not playful, but vicious and harsh as he continued trying to get away. He felt Ramsay’s hardness through his pants and he whimpered in fear, trying desperately to push him away. “No!” He screamed, jaw aching and heart twisting in hurt and confusion. 

"You should know now," Ramsay whispered against Theon's lips. "No doesn't mean anything when you're just a possession." He wrested Theon away from the wall, hauling him into the living room, and he threw him down on the floor.

Theon couldn’t hold back the loud sob that came from him as he hit the floor, trying to regain his composure and scramble back up to his feet. He was so, so, so confused. Ramsay had been so nice in the car, so sweet and caring, and now Theon was bleeding and aching from being punched and thrown around. 

Ramsay climbed on top of him, yanking Theon's shirt off over his head.

"Is this Stark's?" he snapped. "Why the fuck are you wearing Stark's clothes?" He threw the shirt aside. "Trying to look good for your wolf? Trying to make me jealous?" Ramsay grabbed Theon's chin and pulled his head up, holding him in a painful grip. "You'll have to try harder. We all know you're my slut."

“Ramsay, stop!” Theon sobbed, looking into the icy eyes of his lover- ex lover? “You’re hurting me, Ramsay! You’re hurting me!” 

"Isn't that the whole godsdamned point?" Ramsay roared, slamming Theon's head down against the floor so black spots winked in his vision. "Somebody has to teach you a lesson!"

“I didn’t do anything!” Theon shouted, lifting his arms to shove at Ramsay’s chest, hit at him, managing to land a hard punch on Ramsay’s cheek. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t. Robb was right, Robb had been right the whole time and Theon had been angry with him for it. Theon choked on a sob, vision bleary with tears and spots and stars. “I should have listened to Robb!” 

"And what? And done what, exactly?" Ramsay asked dangerously, his hands lowering to the button of Theon's jeans. "Stayed with him? Left me for him? Why would he want my leftovers? Why would he want you, after I've already had you?"

“He said he loved me and he meant it- Ramsay, stop!” Theon shouted, slapping his hand away fiercely. “I-I’m not leftovers! I’m not an object!” 

"I told you, you're mine!" He slammed Theon's head against the hardwood again, dazing him, and Ramsay undid the button and zipper, yanking his jeans down over his ass.

“Ramsay, stop! Please!” Theon was desperate, squirming beneath him in attempt to get away. He was terrified, heart racing and tears streaming down his cheeks. “Ramsay, no! This isn’t okay!” 

"Shut up!" he snarled. "You don't get to tell me what is and isn't okay!" He didn't want to knock him out; it was so much more fun when he was awake, and the way Theon's eyes looked when he cried made his cock stir in his pants. However, Theon's persistent struggling was so godsdamned annoying. Why couldn't he behave like he had the other day?

“You said you’d never mean to hurt me!” Theon sobbed, spots still dancing in his vision from the multiple times Ramsay had slammed his head against the floor. “You can’t, Ramsay, you can’t!” 

"Of course I said that," Ramsay said, shaking his head. "You wouldn't have come inside if I hadn't, and then how would I teach you?" He started to take his own pants off.

“Please, no, please!” Theon begged, remembering how badly it had hurt when Ramsay had taken him the other night. A whole new wave of fear swept over him. “Please, Ramsay, don’t! I- I won’t break up with you! I’ll still be your boyfriend, I can forgive you!” 

"Forgive me? What did I do to need forgiveness for?" Ramsay's hand slid up Theon's chest, winding around Theon's throat. "You liked this, remember? We can still have fun."

“No, no!” Theon clawed at Ramsay’s hand, terrified that Ramsay might actually choke him unconscious this time. “No, this isn’t fun! This isn’t okay! Kraken!” He tried, a desperate attempt to get Ramsay to stop. “Kraken, Ramsay, kraken! Stop it!” 

"Kraken, kraken!" Ramsay mocked. "Shut up, little squid." He squeezed harder, watching with pleasure as Theon's eyelids fluttered.

Theon gasped for air, desperately clawing at the hand squeezing his throat, eyes rolling back. He couldn’t breath. His body was trembling with fear and writhing in protest, not able to protest with his words now that he couldn’t even take a breath. 

Ramsay's other hand was lifting Theon's ass off the floor, pulling him flush against himself. Theon's eyes were streaming tears down his cheeks, his shallow breath was sharp and gasping, and Ramsay was grunting over him.

Everything hurt so bad, sharp pains and dull aches and twisting in his chest and in his gut. Theon felt so stupid, so filthy and useless, just crying and squirming uselessly as Ramsay used him. He was almost thankful for the hand around his throat, distracting him from everything else Ramsay was doing to him. 

By the time Ramsay was finished, Theon was limp on the floor, blood seeping from within him. Ramsay grabbed Robb's shirt and wiped Theon clean with it.

"He won't be wanting that back, I don't think," he told Theon, giggling. Theon's eyes were blank, listless, barely tracking Ramsay's movements. Ramsay smiled at him, sweet and innocent, before dropping the soiled shirt on Theon's chest and stepping over him on his way to the entry way, where Theon's jacket lay discarded. 

"Hey, babe? Which pocket is your phone in?" Ramsay called, rifling through them. "Oh– nevermind! Found it." He carried the phone back to the living room, sitting down on the floor beside Theon. "Don't worry, I'll let your dear wolf know that you won't be coming home tonight. Let's see... Aw, how cute, you have a wolf emoji next to his name?" He glanced over at Theon, and their eyes met. Ramsay grinned at him, before looking back down at the phone. "'Don't worry about me,'" he said aloud, typing. "'Rams and I worked things out. I'm going to be staying with him.' How's that sound?" Theon didn't answer, so Ramsay shrugged. "Sending... Sent! There we go!" He made as though to hand Theon's phone to him, and his fingers twitched towards it, but Ramsay was feigning, and he slipped the phone into his pocket. "You won't be needing that."

They sat together on the floor for some time. "You know," Ramsay said. "I don't like having to teach you these kinds of lessons. It hurts me more than it hurts you. But when you're this naughty, I don't have a choice." Ramsay looked down at him, mock grief in his eyes. "Hopefully you'll learn how to behave soon, but for now—" 

He was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open. Ramsay swallowed hard, lifting a nervous gaze to watch the door to the living room. A moment later, it opened, and Roose Bolton entered. He halted in the doorway, surveying the scene, before his gaze came to rest on Ramsay, disgust rich in his eyes. 

"Clean this mess up," he ordered. 

"Yes, father," Ramsay said softly. Roose looked at Theon again, shaking his head, and turned back out of the room. Ramsay looked back at Theon, a shaky smile spreading over his lips. "That was close, huh?" he breathed. "I thought he was going to be really mad. I'm used to the disappointment, though, don't worry about me." He stroked Theon's curls back from his forehead. Theon blinked slowly, looking for all intents and purposes as though his brain itself was lagging. Ramsay leaned in close.

"I have something for you, in the basement. Want to see?" He stood, pulling Theon up and carrying him bridal-style out into the hall, and down the basement stairs. There was a side room in the basement, fitted with nothing but a dingy toilet and a pole in the middle of the room. Bolted to the pole was a heavy chain, and on the end of the chain was...

"See? Isn't it nice?" Ramsay grinned, holding up the thick metal collar. "Let's see if it fits." He snapped it closed around Theon's neck and pushed him down to sit on the floor. There was a ratty old blanket on the floor at the base of the pole. "If you're good, I'll get you a pillow. If you're really good, I'll get you a mattress. How's that sound?" He stroked Theon's hair again, beaming at him, before standing up. "Well, I'm going to go take a quick shower. Sex always gets me in the mood for one, you know? I'll be back down in a couple of hours to see how you're doing." 

With that, he left the room, clicking off the light, plunging Theon into darkness.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheheh one of our favorite characters is introduced in this chapter-m

Theon had been drifting in and out of his restless sleep for almost two days- not that he knew that. All he knew was that he was cold and naked, with dull aches and sharp pains in what seemed like every part of his body, and that there was a thick metal collar around his neck that kept him chained down like an animal. He was vaguely aware of Ramsay visiting a couple times, but he was too dizzy and confused to really remember any of it. He finally woke- fully conscious and aware- on Monday morning. He had no clue what day or time it was, as the basement didn’t have windows and it certainly didn’t have a clock. He curled himself up on the blanket, which was rough and crusted with blood and come from when Ramsay had first brought him down. “Bastard.” He whispered to himself, squinting to try and see the door, to see if any light was streaming in from the normal part of the basement. He felt a vile mix of fear and relief when a light switched on and footsteps began approaching.

He quickly readjusted, wrapping the blanket around him to cover his nudity, whimpering when the door opened and light streamed in. He squinted up at Ramsay, unaware of the way he looked with his face covered in blood and bruises from Ramsay’s fists.

“Ramsay.” Theon groaned, looking up at him. “Please.”

"Please?" Ramsay questioned, crouching down to hold Theon's face in his hands. He clucked his tongue softly, turning Theon's face this way and that, examining him. "Please, what?"

“L-let me go.” He pleaded, wincing as Ramsay’s hands touched his bruises. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

"Let you go where? Looking like that? I don't think so," Ramsay said with a wry chuckle. "Sorry, babe, but I don't quite trust you."

“Ramsay,” Theon whimpered, “But- But what about school? I’ll just- I can just tell everyone I fell down the stairs. I won’t even tell Robb, I promise. I promise!”

"Did the stairs have hands?" Ramsay scoffed, taking in the vaguely hand-shaped bruise on Theon's cheek. "I'm not stupid, Theon. You'll go running to your wolf bitch the second I turn my back. Don't worry- I'll let him know you're okay," he said, winking.

Theon hoped that Ramsay couldn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes as he forced his head out of Ramsay’s grip and looked down at the floor. “Did he- did he text me? Robb?”

"No," Ramsay lied. "Why would he? You're just my broken toy."

Theon took a deep, shaky breath, clutching the blanket tightly around him. “He’ll come looking for me. He will. He loves me.”

"Does he?" Ramsay stood up, pacing around Theon. "Or did he just say that? People do lie, Theon, and you're such an easy person to lie to. All anybody has to do is pay you attention and you spread your legs. Say the magic words, and you're too far gone to realize that you're in trouble." Ramsay patted his head affectionately.

“He wasn’t lying.” Theon insisted, a tear rolling down his cheek despite his effort to hold it back. He was about to say something about Robb, but then his stomach growled, and he realized just how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten since well before whenever he’d left the Stark house. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at Ramsay. “Are you really gonna keep me down here?”

"Do you really want me to let you free?" Ramsay asked softly, crouching down in front of him again and looking into his eyes.

Theon shifted backwards, not comfortable being so close to the man who’d beaten him and raped him basically to the point of unconsciousness, and then proceeded to lock him in a basement. “Yes.”

Ramsay sighed. "You should have thought about that before you broke my trust in you. It's going to be some time before you can build it back."

Theon bit his lip to hold back a sob, unsuccessfully blinking back tears. “Ramsay, please. I’m scared. Everything hurts and I’m scared.” He felt chills down his spine as Ramsay’s eyes stared into his, but he didn’t look away.

"I'll be back with some food for you," Ramsay said, completely ignoring him. He left, clicking the light off and plunging Theon into darkness once again, but several minutes later, he returned with a styrofoam bowl of dry cereal, a loaf of bread, and three bottles of water.

"This should hold you over for the day, right?"

Theon glanced up at Ramsay, then back down to the food as he set it on the floor. The bowl was styrofoam, of fucking course, so it wasn’t like it was helpful. He looked to the water bottles and picked one up slowly, noting that it wasn’t heavy and wouldn’t exactly do much damage. It was all he had, though, and he couldn’t just sit there and let Ramsay treat him like an animal. He sat up and threw the water bottle at Ramsay as hard as he could- which wasn’t very hard, in his current state- and aimed for his face.

Ramsay caught the bottle before it could hit him, however, and he opened it, glaring at Theon. While Theon looked apprehensively up at him, Ramsay tipped the bottle over Theon's head and slowly poured it all out.

Theon scrambled backwards, coughing, trying to get away from the stream of cold water. It was cold enough in the basement, he didn’t need to be wet as well. He gave Ramsay the angriest look he could muster with bruises and tears all over his face. “Bastard.”

Ramsay's eyes narrowed and he kicked Theon in the gut. "I changed my mind. You can make these last until tomorrow... If I'm feeling generous."

Theon doubled over and groaned, wrapping his arms and the blanket- which was now wet- tighter around himself. Ramsay wasn’t going to let him out anyway, so there was no point in being compliant. He glared up at the man he’d thought he loved just a few days before. “Is that why you’re locking me up? Because you can’t get anyone to stay with you, filthy bastard that you are?”

"I would watch what you say to me," Ramsay warned, unperturbed. "Your behavior determines what I say to your wolf, remember? Unless, you want him to think you hate him?"

Theon’s eyes widened and he shrunk back. “He wouldn’t believe it. He won’t. He’ll notice I’m gone, and he’ll come for me.” Despite his words, he didn’t sound so sure.

"He might. But then, when I tell him how you came running into my arms, begging me to take you away from him and his cruel love... he might not." Ramsay shrugged.

“He won’t believe you!” Theon argued, voice shaking. “He knows me better than that!”

"Yeah? Tell me, Theon... Did he leave Jeyne? Or was he still with her, when he told you how he felt?"

Theon had no response to that. Robb was still with Jeyne. He’d told Theon to leave Ramsay, but made no mention of leaving Jeyne himself. “I’m- I’m still his best friend.”

"I think if he really loved you, like he said, he would never have dated her. Don't you think?" Ramsay said. He looked down at the pitiful boy, wet and shivering. "Now, I have to leave. Do be a good boy for me."

“Wait!” Theon didn’t want to be left alone in the dark. As much as he hated Ramsay at that moment, he didn’t want to be alone.

Ramsay didn't so much as glance back; he clicked off the lights and shut the door behind him, leaving Theon behind in the pitch dark.

“Ramsay!” Theon screamed into the darkness. “Wait! Come back!” He shouted for Ramsay until his voice grew hoarse, trying to reach around the room where he could for a light switch. It was futile, and he ended up leaning against the pole he was chained to and sobbing quietly.

Upstairs, at the kitchen table, Roose looked up from his newspaper. "He had better not be screaming like that all day," he said, annoyed.

"He won't. I'll be sending somebody to check in on him later," Ramsay replied. Roose nodded curtly and looked back down at his paper, dismissing him. Ramsay grabbed an uncooked bagel and his backpack, dashing out the door with a spring in his step.

* * *

 

"Bolton!" Robb roared, approaching Ramsay with fire in his eyes. "Where is Theon?"

"Ah, there goes the Young Wolf, howling. So noisy," Ramsay teased. Jeyne clutched at Robb's hand, anxious. Ramsay looked at her, grinning. "Is he like this in bed, too? Howling for Greyjoy cock?"

Jeyne gaped at him; Robb scowled, stepping in front of her to shield her from Ramsay's piercing gaze.

"I'm serious, Bolton. Where is he?"

“He’s home, Stark.” Ramsay rolled his eyes, grin still playing on his lips. “He wanted to rest, and I didn’t want to force him to come to school. I’d never force him to do anything he didn’t want.” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “And he and I were so very busy this weekend, I figured he needed the rest.”

As much as Robb would have liked to contradict that statement, they were in the middle of a school hallway, and he was not going to voice what had happened to Theon right here.

"He'd better be here tomorrow," Robb said quietly, threateningly, before letting Jeyne tug him away. He hadn't gotten around to breaking up with her before he got the text from Theon, and now it looked as though Theon was hiding from him.

As if. Theon wouldn’t be coming to school the next day, nor the day after that. He was going to stay down in his dark little room in the basement, cold and scared and aching all over. The thought of it made Ramsay grin, and he stared at Robb until the eldest Stark child was out of sight.

* * *

 

Theon had no clue how much time had passed since Ramsay had left. He couldn’t sleep, not fully anyway, and he was too stubborn to touch the food Ramsay gave him. He’d spent a while trying to get the heavy metal collar off his neck, trying to pick the lock with the twist-tie from the loaf of bread, but all it had done was left his fingers covered in little pricks from the tiny metal wire. He’d tried to reach the door or the light switch, but his movement was extremely limited.

He felt sick to his stomach, not just from pain, but from fear and hurt and humiliation. He’d really thought Ramsay was sorry. He thought Ramsay was good, that he loved him. But no. He’d raped him again, beaten him senseless, thrown him into the fucking basement. He’d cried plenty since Ramsay left, but he felt as if he had run out of tears. He heard footsteps outside the room, saw a sliver of light from under the door, and didn’t know whether to perk up or shrink back.

The door opened with a soft creak and Theon squinted at the figure in the doorway. It wasn’t Ramsay, and he didn’t know whether to be terrified or relieved. No, this man was thinner, and he didn’t have those sharp blue eyes. He had multiple piercings, four shining bits of jewelry- spider bites on the left side of his lip, a hoop on the side of his right nostril, and a curved barbell on his left brow. Theon sat up straight, trying to look and sound proud, strong, and angry. “Who are you?”

"Ramsay tells me to check up on you," the man said, shambling closer. "Make sure you're eating." He turned the lights on, temporarily blinding Theon as he was cast in sudden brightness, and moved towards him. He stopped about a foot in front of Theon, looming over him.

"You're not eating. Ramsay will be angry," he said warningly.

“He’ll be angry anyway.” Theon snapped, looking the stranger up and down for any sign of a weapon he could snatch. His eyes caught on what appeared to be the sheath of a knife on the man’s belt. He was close enough to reach, too, if he was just quick enough. He quickly lunged at the man, grabbing for the exposed handle of the knife.

The man grabbed Theon's hand, crushing it in a startlingly strong grip, and grabbed the knife with his other hand. He pressed the blade to Theon's throat.

"Ramsay calls me Skinner," he said quietly. "Want to know why?"

Theon’s eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat. He did not want to know why, but he was scared if he moved the blade would cut into his skin. He tried to pull back, away from the blade, but the grip on his hand was keeping him from getting away. He looked frantically up at Skinner’s face, silently pleading him to move the knife away.

Skinner pressed the knife harder against his throat, drawing a paper-thin line of blood. "No?" he whispered. "Then I suggest you behave." He slowly let go of Theon's hand, reaching instead to grab a water bottle, and he uncapped it all without looking away from Theon's wide, terrified eyes. Skinner pressed the mouth of the bottle to Theon's lips. "Drink up."

Theon wanted to spit the water back out at Skinner, throat stinging where the blade had cut him. He kept his eyes on Skinner’s knife as he drank, not trusting the man to play fair. Ramsay certainly hadn’t. “Ramsay won’t like you cutting me.” He murmured after swallowing a mouthful. He hated it, how Ramsay had called Theon his, had told Theon he owned him. But Ramsay was possessive, and if Theon could use that to his advantage with Skinner, he would.

"Ramsay has allowed me to use force to make you behave," countered Skinner. "He isn't very impressed with you, right now. He doesn't like when his toys fight back. You would do well to learn that."

“I’m not a toy.” Theon snapped, hating the way his heart twisted painfully in his chest. “And I’m not his.”

"Wrong on both accounts," Skinner said. "You became his the moment you said you loved him, the moment you put on that necklace." He nodded towards the tear-shaped garnet. "And be honest: would you call yourself anything more than a broken toy right now?"

Theon had almost forgotten about the necklace, forgotten the way the chain was digging into his skin beneath the weight of the collar, how the garnet hung just low enough that it still laid bare and unhidden on his chest. “I don’t love him.” Theon spat, looking away, focusing his gaze on the corner of the room, not answering the question.

"That does not matter. You," Skinner said loudly, "are nothing more than Ramsay's possession, to use and to play with, and to break, for as long as he desires you." He retreated the knife, licking the blood off the edge of its blade. "You have no say in what happens to you. I advise you get used to it."

“I’m not a possession!” Theon argued, anger and frustration clear in his voice and in his expression. “I’m a person! He can’t- he can’t do this to me!”

"He can. He is." Skinner picked up the bowl of cereal, scooping some onto the plastic spoon, and holding it to Theon's lips.

Theon turned his head away from the spoon, feeling tears threatening to well up in his eyes. He’d thought he was done crying, and he certainly didn’t want to cry in front of Skinner. “Fuck you.”

Skinner sighed, grabbing Theon by the chin and forcing his mouth open, shovelling cereal into his mouth. "Maybe someday," he said as he did so. "But not right now. Ramsay would be so upset."

Theon yanked his head out of Skinner’s grasp and straight up spit the cereal back at him, hatred in his eyes as he glared at him. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He snapped.

Skinner slammed Theon's head against the pole; it changed loudly as Theon's skull struck and the chain jostled against it. "Behave yourself," he snapped back. "Everything you do and say gets reported back to your master."

Theon yelped and then groaned loudly, his head already aching badly from being slammed against the floor at some point before, he didn’t know how long ago. “My master?” He snarled, though the words were more unsure, more shaky as spots danced in his vision. “I don’t have a fucking master.”

"You're a fool if you truly believe that," Skinner said. "You're chained like the mutt you are, squatting on a filthy blanket in a godsdamned basement. You don't look like much of a person, if you ask me."

He rapidly blinked back tears, clenching his teeth so tightly it hurt. “And what are you then?” He hissed.

"I am your warden," Skinner said. "Normally, Ben Bones would be looking in on you, as he tends the mutts, but Ramsay decided to reward me."

“Reward you? Feeding one of his ‘pets,’ is that what gets you off? Looking after your master’s ‘leftovers’?” Theon spat, each word sour on his tongue. He couldn’t stand Skinner, couldn’t stand the way the man looked at him and spoke to him.

"Has Ramsay ever told you about us?" Skinner asked suddenly, standing up. "Am I the first you've met?"

“Are you one of his boys?” Theon’s voice still shook, no matter how much he tried to keep it strong and steady. He remembered what Robb told him about the Bastard’s Boys. “It seems you’re more his pet than I am.”

"No, we're his... Associates. Hunting partners, you could say. He never told you what he hunts, did he? I'll give you a hint— it's not deer."

“Drowned God.” Theon groaned softly, tipping his head back to rest against the pole. “You don’t- you don’t kill people?”

"Close," Skinner said, tapping Theon on the nose. "Only girls. They're so much more fun to hunt than men. They scream prettily, you know."

“What do you- why would you?” He flinched when Skinner touched him, and there was a sick imagine in his mind of Sansa, running in the woods with Ramsay and his boys at her heels, her pretty red hair making it impossible to hide as they shot at her. “What do they do to deserve it?”

"To deserve it?" Skinner echoed, looking as though he had never entertained the thought. "Nothing! It's just fun for us... Just sport. We all have our different jobs. When we catch them, Ramsay goes first, of course. Grunt holds them down, and after Ramsay, Damon goes... He likes to make them dance a little, you know? Makes it more fun. Then Ben goes, and Yellow Dick—you'll never guess why we call him that—and I go later, near the end. And my name?" He fingered the blade of his knife. "I take the trophies."

“Oh, gods... gods...” Theon’s tears were spilling now, sliding down his cheeks. He could only imagine Sansa, Arya, Yara... “Why? How is that- how is that fun? You’re fucking sick.”

"Well, we have to name the dogs somehow," Skinner said with a shrug. "Those are the girls who put up a good fight. It's always more fun when they struggle." He shot Theon a pointed look. "Crushing the fight in them is our favorite part."

“That’s sick. You’re sick.” Theon’s voice cracked, thick with fear as he spoke, swallowing back sobs. “Why would you do that to someone?”

"Why not? People are no different than animals," Skinner said cruelly. "People are just more fun."

“What if it were you, in one of those girls’ positions?” He looked up at Skinner with teary eyes, the bruises on his face looking even worse beneath the yellowish-orange lighting. He pulled the ragged blanket tighter around himself.

"I’m not stupid enough to let myself get caught," Skinner replied. "Unless you are, I would start behaving. It's always the naughty ones who get hunted first. You would hate for those cute dogs to tear you apart, wouldn't you?" Skinner barked tauntingly.

“They wouldn’t!” Theon protested, eyes going comically wide and voice raising an octave. “They know me, they love me, they wouldn’t!”

"They're dogs! They do whatever Ramsay tells them to do— he says kill, they kill. He says make it slow, and they do."

“Not me!” He insisted. “Not me, you dumbass! Have you ever had a fucking dog before?” The fire in his eyes was still there, even if it was masked by his tears.

"They're not your dogs. You're not their master. As of now, you're beneath them... They respected you before, when you were with their master. Now you're a bitch," Skinner spat. "A mongrel. You'll be lucky if Sour Alyn doesn't try and breed you to them."

Theon looked horrified at the mere thought of that and scooted himself back a bit further, shuddering. “No. Ramsay wouldn’t let that happen.”

"Wouldn't he?" Skinner challenged. He seemed to consider the conversation over, leaving those spouting seeds of doubt and fear twisting in Theon's gut; he turned and walked towards the door, hand on the light switch. "I recommend you eat," he said. "You never know what you may need your strength for, here." With that, he switched off the lights and left Theon in the plummeting darkness once again.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone I woke up two hours b4 my alarm bc I was in severe pain and then accidentally spilt my medicine all over myself in bed yay -m

Contrary to what Robb had demanded, Theon was not in school the next day, or the day after. Ramsay was strutting around, smug as shit, and Robb couldn't touch him.

It was one thing to miss Theon when he was sitting next to him, hating him, because at least Robb knew he was okay. It was another thing entirely to have gotten his best friend back, only to lose him again, this time what seemed to be permanently. Jeyne was growing worried, always checking to see if he was okay, and she only succeeded in making him feel worse. At home, he dealt with his siblings and mother asking him where Theon had gone, Grey Wind was back to moping. They were all nothing compared to Queenie, who thought—with great reason— that she had been abandoned, and now hardly ate, and never seemed to leave Sansa's room.

Between classes, Jon appeared at his side, dark curls framing a worried face.

“Did you talk to Theon?” Jon had noticed Theon was missing, just as he’d noticed Robb’s distress and Ramsay’s smugness. Jon was worried, because even if the talk went poorly, it didn’t make sense for Theon to not be at school at all.

"Yes," Robb said. "I told him everything–and I mean, everything." He gave Jon a pointed look. "And now he's living with Ramsay."

“He’s living with Ramsay?” Jon sounded shocked. “Was he angry with you or something? What about Queenie?”

"He left her behind," Robb said angrily. "Let me tell you, I've never seen a dog so depressed in my life. I'm worried that she's going to starve herself."

Jon’s brows furrowed. “That asshole. I’ll go to Ramsay’s and drag him back my damn self.” He could only imagine the poor dog, still just a puppy, not understanding why Theon wasn’t coming home.

"Good luck. I went over there yesterday, and Bolton's dogs just about tore me to pieces," Robb said, showing Jon a nasty bite on his forearm. "Good thing I brought Grey Wind with me... But in all honesty, I think I'm going to call the police and report him missing. If Bolton isn't letting Theon come to school, there's something wrong. And I'm having a hard time believing he would leave Queenie behind this long."

Jon nodded slowly. “I guess that’s probably a good idea. Theon’s an ass, but... you have a point. And even when he was angry with you, he didn’t move in with Ramsay.” He thought of all the stories he’d heard about the Bolton Bastard and felt his gut twist.

"I stood outside calling him and didn't get any sort of response, from anybody," Robb said, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Then Bolton came outside with his mutts... Either Theon wants nothing to do with me, or he's in trouble."

“Before he went back to Ramsay’s, did he say he was going to move in?”

"No, but he wouldn't let me drive him over. He knew I would wait for him, probably. He had Bolton come get him."

“I just don’t get why he’d move in all the sudden.” Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Has he stopped by to get his stuff?”

"No," Robb said slowly. "Unless he stopped by while nobody was home. Mom's been working a lot, now, since dad..."

“What the fuck is he wearing then? Bolton’s clothes?” Jon furrowed his brows.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him," Robb snapped. "Probably."

“Gods, man, okay. Calm down. He’s probably fine. Bolton hasn’t hurt him yet, who knows, maybe he’s really changed?”

"But he has," Robb said painfully. "He... He raped him," he said, dropping his voice to a near whisper so only Jon could hear.

Jon’s eyes went wide and he looked at Robb, more worried than before. “He- And Theon went back to him?”

"Yes," Robb said. "I- I don't know. I don't know why.”

“Gods, Robb, why would he- I know he’s stupid but why would he go back to him?” Job was growing more and more concerned, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to them.

"I don't know! I have a hard time believing he would do it by choice, but why else would he be ignoring me?"

“I don’t know, maybe Ramsay’s got him locked up in the basement or something?” Jon joked, trying to crack a smile. It fell immediately after. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

Robb, however, grew still. "W-what if he does? Jon, what if that's it? What if Bolton has him locked up?"

“He wouldn’t. Robb, I know he has a bad track record, but he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t lock Theon up. Theon wouldn’t let him.” Theon was a fiery bitch, Theon loved to talk back. Theon had too much pride.

"Theon might not have been able to stop him." Robb was moving, now, storming through the halls in search of Ramsay, Jon jogging along beside him to keep up.

“Robb, slow down!” Jon grumbled. “What’re you gonna do? Tell Ramsay to let him go?”

"I'll make him prove that Theon is okay!" Robb said, but he faltered. Jon had a point.

“How would that work?” Jon grabbed Robb’s arm, stopping him. “Listen. If Bolton does have Theon locked up, you making him angry is only going to hurt Theon more.”

"What if he's already hurting him?" Robb asked desperately. "And I'm here, bitching and feeling abandoned! Imagine how Theon feels!"

“Text him, see if he replies. Before you go shouting at Ramsay.” Jon had a bad feeling that Robb was right.

"All right," Robb said, and pulled out his phone.

'you okay? haven't heard from you in a while'

Barely a second later, his phone buzzed with an incoming text.

'fine'

Robb stared down at this single word in utter disbelief. What? He was fine? Fine and able to text? Five days and he was perfectly fine, and all he got was one word?

'just dont wanna tlk to u'

Robb gaped at this. That wasn't possible; this couldn't be Theon texting him. But the style was mimicked perfectly, right down to the careless way he missed letters.

Jon leaned over Robb’s shoulder to look at his phone, frowning and stepping back when he saw the messages. “That’s Theon, alright. That’s definitely him, it’s exactly how he texts.” He placed a hand on Robb’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, man.”

Robb grit his teeth. "That's not possible." He brushed Jon off, walking away from him. He was already late to class at this point; he wouldn't bother going.

In the English classroom, Ramsay sat with Theon's phone in his hands, smirking at Robb's empty seat.

* * *

 

Yara hadn’t seen her baby brother in weeks, and she was worried. She knew he wasn’t happy with her, was distraught about their mother, but she really missed him. She’d also heard he’d been hanging out with the Bolton bastard. She got in her truck and headed to the high school, going out to the bleachers where Theon normally hid during class. He wasn’t there, so she figured he’d might actually be going to class for once.

Robb, however was, and he looked up in surprise when Yara approached.

"You're Theon's sister," he said. "What are you doing here?"

Yara looked tired. The bags under her eyes were dark, and her hair was messy, as if it hadn’t been brushed in a week. “I need to talk to him. Where is he.”

"Living with Ramsay Bolton," Robb said shortly. "I need to talk to him too, but..."

“I’m sorry, what?” Yara snapped. “He’s living with that bastard? I heard they were dating, but living together? That fucking idiot.” She spat on the ground to the side of her, expression angry, but the underlying worry was obvious.

"He told me that he was going over to talk to him, to leave him, and then he texted me and said he was going to be living there. He left his puppy behind and everything," Robb said sourly.

“Fucking brat.” Yara hissed, fire in her eyes. “So he’s abandoned his family and friends now, huh?”

"Guess so." He took out his phone, showing her the texts. "Look," he said, and tapped out another quick message:

'i'm with your sister. prove you're okay, send a pic'

In English, Ramsay stared down at this text message, biting his lip. Oh. Oh no.

Yara watched the phone, waiting as the bubble indicating he was typing sat at the bottom of the screen. After a minute, a selfie of Theon looking annoyed popped up on the screen, accompanied by a text that said ‘there. u happy?’

“Well. There it is. He’s just being a stupid bitch again.” She huffed.

"No," Robb murmured. "I recognize that selfie. That was his phone background, two weeks ago." As Yara looked on, growing concerned, he typed:

'thats old. send a new one, holding a fork, or I'll report you kidnapped'

Minutes passed, and no picture came. Robb looked up at Yara, anxious.

‘dude just fuk off. im jerkin off rn’

Yara shrugged. “I mean... it’s a good excuse.”

"But, Theon wouldn't care. He would just send one regardless." Robb shoved his phone into his pocket. "I'm going to the police."

“I’m going with you.” Yara insisted. “He’s my baby brother.” Her worry was showing more than her anger now.

"Who's car are we taking?" he asked. Rather than answer, Yara led him to her truck, and they sped off to the police station, arriving in record time.

"I need to report a kidnapping!" Robb exclaimed as they burst through the doors.


	31. Chapter 31

"I'm going to need a description of your missing person," the officer said, tapping a pen against the sheet of paper, "and the time and location you last saw him."

"He's not missing," Robb said. "We know where he is... It's where he is that's the problem."

"Yeah?" the officer sighed. "And where is that?"

“Ramsay Bolton’s house!” Yara slammed her fist down on the counter, which was, quite frankly, very unnecessary. “He’s like five foot ten, kinda scrawny, greenish eyes.”

"Curly brown hair," Robb added. "Last seen Saturday morning, getting into his boyfriend's car."

"So he's with his boyfriend?" the officer asked, raising her eyebrow. "What makes you think he was kidnapped?"

"He..." Robb glanced over at Yara. She hadn't known, but... "He was going over to talk about leaving him. Bolton—his boyfriend—raped him Thursday night. He was going to leave him, but he texted me an hour after he went over that he was going to be living there. But, he never came to pick up any of his things, not even his puppy."

"Wait, back up. His boyfriend raped him?" the officer said, both eyebrows raising now. She looked appalled.

Yara stared at him in shock, eyes going wide. “He fucking raped him?” She hissed, her expression turning furious. “I’m going to fucking kill that bastard-“ She cut off, remembering where she was, and settled for glaring at the officer.

"Why wasn't this reported?"

"He..." Robb shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "He only told me about it Friday night... I was more concerned about getting him out of that situation than having him report it. I'm sorry. But that's what makes me think that he wouldn't move in willingly. Then I texted him today, and he seemed cold and standoffish, and he refused to take a picture to prove he was okay."

“You could’ve told me!” Yara hissed, turning her glare to Robb. “My baby brother- he-“ She cut off, shaking her head furiously. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

"I'm worried about him. I don't think he's okay... He wouldn't just up and leave like that. He didn't bring anything at all with him... I think Bolton is holding him hostage," he said very seriously. The officer jotted some things down, nodding.

"That is unusual, even in situations where the person in question left willingly," she told them. "I'll run this information through, check the database for Ramsay Bolton, and we'll be in touch."

“Thank you.” Yara growled through gritted teeth, still glaring at Robb. She was furious. Bolton had violated her brother and no one had told her.

They bid their thanks and goodbyes and left, and the second they reached Yara's truck, she blew up at him.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Robb Stark?” She turned to him, jabbing the keys into the ignition. “My brother- my baby fucking brother, my only fucking brother- he gets raped, and you know, and you don’t even fucking tell me?” She slammed her fist against the steering wheel, voice raising in volume as she continued. “And, not to mention, I’m sure I wouldn’t have even known he was missing if I hadn’t happened to show up today! Drowned God knows you wouldn’t have fucking told me otherwise! That’s my baby brother, my fucking brother, Stark!”

"It's not like you two have been on great terms lately!" Robb retorted; guilty as he felt about it, the thought of telling Yara hadn't even crossed his mind. "I don't even have your number—how would I have told you?"

“Oh, I don’t know, asking Theon for it before he got fucking kidnapped? Ramsay’s probably fucking beating the fucking shit out of him as we speak, and let me tell you, that wouldn’t have fucking happened if you told me about this sooner!”

"What would you have done that I didn't try?" Robb demanded. "Please, enlighten me! Tell me how you would have used your stellar sibling relationship to save him!"

“By not being fucking stupid enough to let him go back to Bolton!” Yara was practically screaming at him by now.

"You think I wanted to? You think I didn't try and take him over there myself? You think I don't know that, that I'm stupid? That I fucked up? That if he's hurt, it's my damned fault? I do! Trust me, I do! But screaming about it won't fix it!"

“He’s all I have!” She screamed, and tears were starting to show in her eyes- angry, worried tears that she blinked back quickly. Her face looked ugly like that, all screwed up and red as she shouted. “He’s all I have left, Stark, and you fucking let him go back to Bolton! You shouldn’t have let him go!”

"I know that!" Robb shouted, screwing his eyes shut so Yara wouldn't see the utter distress and self-loathing in them. "I fucking know that! But there's nothing I can do now. We're going to get him back."

“The cops- fuck, Stark, what if he’s killed him or something?” Yara looked away, glaring out the window.

"Don't say that," Robb said. "He's not dead. He's fine, he just needs to get out of there."

“What if he doesn’t want to leave?”

"Of course he does," Robb said, shaking his head.

“What if he doesn’t?” She repeated, voice sharper this time. “My other brothers are dead. My mother doesn’t even recognize any of us. My father doesn’t care about any of us. Theon and I may not get along, but he’s all I have.”

"Maybe you should have valued him more when he was still around," Robb said.

“At least I didn’t let him run back to his fucking rapist.” Yara snarled, snapping her head around to look at him.

"You say that like he's a dog, like I have any ultimate authority on that he does! He would have gone, no matter what I said."

“You should’ve followed!” She took a deep breath. She was shaking. “If he turns up dead, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

"If Theon is dead... You won't have to kill me," Robb said, looking away from her, out the window as the street blurred by.

* * *

 

The door slammed open when Ramsay got home that day, and he pounded off down the basement stairs.

"Come on, Theon, we're giving you a bath," he muttered, unlocking the collar with unsteady fingers.

Theon groaned, squinting in the light as he stumbled to his feet. He whimpered, feeling the pain and aching in his body even more when he stood. His gaze darted from Ramsay to the open door, but he didn’t try to run. He knew it wouldn’t work, not when he couldn’t even stand up straight. He refused to look at Ramsay.

Ramsay helped him up the stairs, so sweetly and gently that Theon was made nervous because of it, and he picked him up upon reaching the bathroom, and placed him in the bathtub. It was already filled with warm water, the perfect temperature for comfort, and he splashed some playfully against Theon's chest before standing up.

"What scent soap would you like? My father has this, kind, Grey Mists? And mine is Frosted Woods." He held them both up to show him.

Theon looked confused, squinting up at Ramsay, eyes still adjusting to the light. “Why- What?” His voice was soft, a bit rough. He didn’t want to make Ramsay mad, but he was so, so confused. He couldn’t help but relax into the warm water, however, and pointed at the Grey Mists soap. Robb’s scent.

Ramsay squirted a generous amount onto a soft washcloth, massaging the grime from Theon's skin. As he washed, he talked.

"What would you like for dinner tonight, babe?"

Ramsay’s tone was so soft, his touches so gentle, and Theon whimpered softly. “Is- is this a trick?” He stammered, still very aware of the aching all over his body.

"A trick?" Ramsay echoed. "Of course not. You need to eat, silly." He rinsed Theon's chest, moving on to wash his shoulders and arms.

“Are you gonna hurt me?” Theon blurted out, flinching when the cloth rubbed over one of his bruises.

"Oh, babe... I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. I have to, sometimes, when you're bad... I have to punish you. But you won't make me do that, right? You're my good boy..." Ramsay shook his head, lips pursed. His touch softened, brushing over the same bruise with no pain inflicted.

That only made Theon more confused, his heart fluttering at the praise but his mind swimming with confusion. “I didn’t- but I didn’t do anything bad? You hurt me for no reason.”

"It wasn't for no reason," Ramsay retorted, furrowing his brow. "You were going to leave me... I had to make sure that didn't happen."

“I didn’t say I was actually going to leave you.” Theon mumbled, looking down into the bath water. “I just said I wanted to talk.”

"You were going to leave," Ramsay said shortly. "Don't lie. You're lucky I'm so forgiving... Not every boyfriend would be."

Theon felt a twist of fear in his gut at Ramsay’s tone. “I-I wasn’t. I just wanted to talk, because you hurt me for no reason!”

"You said you wanted it," Ramsay reminded him, "that morning. You said you never wanted me to stop. If I was too rough then, you should have said so."

“I- but- I did, I did say-“ Theon cut off, hesitant, questioning himself, gaze flitting around the room. “I said no, and I was crying and screaming and- and I was bleeding, Rams, and I said the safe word and everything!”

"Did you?" Ramsay asked, seeming genuinely surprised. "I must have gotten too caught up in it... Babe, I'm so sorry."

If anything, that made Theon feel worse. Had Ramsay really not noticed? Was he going to break up with him for something that wasn’t even his fault. He told himself that, even if that were the case, Ramsay still beat and raped him again, and that wasn’t right. “You- I- you still hurt me! Instead of talking to me about it, you hurt me!”

"You were going to leave me— I panicked. I wanted to teach you a lesson, so you wouldn't think about leaving me again. I'm sorry... It won't happen again, I swear." He gently coaxed Theon to sit forward. His hand slid down Theon's shoulders, swirling the soapy cloth down his back.

“... Promise?” Theon whispered, relaxing against Ramsay’s touches.

"Promise," Ramsay murmured. Bit by bit, the grime was disappearing under Ramsay's methodical treatment, and Theon's pale skin was showing itself.

Theon took a few slow, deep breaths and told himself to calm down, that there was nothing to be scared of. “Skinner... Skinner said you hunt people. Girls. He said that’s how you- that’s how you name the pups.”

"You trust Skinner over me?" Ramsay asked softly, taking Theon's face in his hands. He looked hurt, almost betrayed.

“N-no!” Theon exclaimed, looking panicked. “I just- he scared me, is all!”

"Skinner is difficult," Ramsay said slowly. He rubbed the dirt away from Theon's cheeks, cleaning his face in gentle, loving movements. "He's defiant, not like Damon. Damon is good. You— you are good. Right?"

Theon nodded slowly, looking into Ramsay’s eyes and feeling his defiance melt away under Ramsay’s affectionate gaze. “Yeah. I’m- I’m good.” He reached up, pointing to the thin scratch along his throat. “Skinner, um, he cut me.”

"Did he?" Ramsay growled, a dark shadow of fury flitting across his face. "I'll have a word with him... He won't be touching you again."

“Thank you.” Theon relaxed more, letting out a deep, shaky breath. He wanted to ask something, he knew it would make Ramsay mad, but he needed to ask... “What- What about Robb? Did he ever text? Can I call him?”

"No," Ramsay said, shaking his head, eyes sad. "He hasn't texted. In school, he and Jeyne seemed fine. I'm sorry, babe. It's probably for the best that you just forget about him."

Theon nodded and looked away, biting his lip. He should’ve known better. Robb was with Jeyne. Sure, Robb said he loved him, but it must’ve just been to make Theon feel better when he was so sad about Ramsay. He swallowed hard and nodded again. “Okay. Okay, you’re right.”

"I'm sorry, babe," he said, pulling him into a wet hug. Water sloshed against the side of the tub, and Ramsay's hand slipped the washcloth down Theon's chest again, sliding down to his legs to wash.

“I don’t have to go back to the basement again, right?” Theon murmured, resting his head on Ramsay’s shoulder.

"Never again," Ramsay promised. "You're such a good boy for me. You'll be sleeping my bed now."

“You really scared me.” Theon’s voice was soft and he felt warm and sleepy, albeit still a bit uneasy.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. The washcloth scrubbed down his legs, under his calf and below his knees, finally down to tickle his feet.

Theon squealed, cheeks flushing pink, and pulled his feet away. “Hey! No!” He pouted at Ramsay.

"Don't you want clean toes?" Ramsay asked, his lip jutting in a playful pout. He did, however, retreat the cloth... cleaning instead around Theon's genitals.

Theon went still and looked to the side, away from Ramsay, feeling a pang of fear and discomfort at having hands around there.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I can't tell you enough how sorry I am." He finished cleaning him quickly and withdrew the washcloth.

“It’s okay.” Theon murmured, voice soft and nervous again. “I just- I just need a little bit, to get comfortable again.”

"You can take all the time you need," Ramsay assured him. He reached for the shampoo bottle, a pleasing eucalyptus smell, and lathered it into Theon's wet curls.

“I’m still healing down there, too.” Theon’s voice got quieter, remembering the sight of his blood on the sheets.

Ramsay frowned, massaging his fingers into Theon's scalp. "Was I that rough?"

“Yeah. It doesn’t hurt as much, now, but it hurt really bad the first day. And then when you- when- it made it worse again.” He couldn’t bring himself to look up at Ramsay.

"But you learned your lesson," Ramsay said, "didn't you? I am sorry that had to happen." He scooped some water in a cup, pouring it over Theon's tipped-back head, rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

“You keep saying I learned my lesson?” Theon sounded confused, closing his eyes as Ramsay rinsed out the shampoo. “What lesson?”

"Not to leave me," Ramsay said. "Never to leave me. Not to betray me..."

“I didn’t betray you!” Theon sat up, looking at Ramsay with wide eyes.

"You were going to," Ramsay said. "But you won't now, right? You can never leave me, babe." He began to work conditioner through the damp strands of his hair.

“I said I wasn’t! I said, I-I just wanted to talk, because you hurt me so bad, and- and you scared me!” Theon insisted.

"Okay," Ramsay said, letting it go. "Don't worry about that anymore. That's in the past. You're mine— I'll take care of you." He scooped more water up in the cup and rinsed the conditioner from Theon's hair.

Theon blinked up at him, the last five words sounding so genuine that his heart ached. “When can I go home?”

"You are home," Ramsay said. "Your home is with me– the Starks don't want you."

Hurt showed in his expression and he hesitantly reached for Ramsay, holding the hand that wasn’t holding the cup. “I- my puppy. What about my puppy?”

"We'll go get her tomorrow," Ramsay promised. "When the Starks are all gone to school or work. We'll get Queenie and your things."

“But the big dogs...” he trailed off, squeezing Ramsay’s hand. He wanted to be held. He wanted Ramsay to hold him and be sweet and gentle and act like he did before the night of their anniversary.

Ramsay leaned over him, pulling the drain plug, and the lukewarm water began to swirl down the drain. "They'll be fine," he said. "We'll supervise them when they're in the yard together."

Theon nodded slowly. “Rams, I’m tired.” His voice softened even more. Sleeping on the cold basement floor didn’t exactly give him much energy.

He lifted him carefully out of the tub, wrapping him in a plush towel, and carried him up the twisted stairs to his bedroom. Ramsay laid Theon down on the mattress, letting him sink, boneless, into comfort.

A nagging voice in the back of Theon’s mind told him this was bad, he should y trust Ramsay, he’d hurt him again- but Theon couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt so warm, so comfortable and soft and he wanted nothing more than to be held. He looked up at Ramsay, blue-green eyes soft and wide, offering him a tiny smile.

Ramsay lay beside him, looking into his eyes, and kissed his cheek. "Do you have enough pillows?" he asked quietly.

“Mhm.” Theon nodded a tiny bit, leaning in to give Ramsay a quick, gentle kiss on the lips. It felt so nice to be in a bed, so nice and warm and soft.

"Go to sleep, babe," Ramsay said. "We have a big day tomorrow."

Theon curled up against him, nuzzling his face against Ramsay’s neck. It didn’t take long before he was drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 

He was woken the next morning by the smell of breakfast, and a minute later, while Theon was still groggily sitting up in bed, Ramsay entered bearing a tray laden with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a glass of orange juice.

"Good morning, babe," Ramsay purred, sliding into bed beside him and resting the tray on Theon's lap. "Are you hungry?"

“Mhm.” Theon nodded, picking up a piece of bacon and biting into it, closing his eyes in pleasure at the taste. It was perfectly cooked, perfectly crisp.

"Eat up," he said. "When you're ready, come downstairs. We'll go get your things later."

He kept eating, finishing up all the food and his cup of orange juice, giving Ramsay a quick peck on the lips after. “Thank you.”

"I love you," Ramsay whispered, peppering kisses over Theon's lips and cheek.

“Yeah?” Theon smiled a bit, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. “I love you too.”

Ramsay smiled sweetly, getting out of bed again. "I'll be down in the kitchen, with the girls, whenever you're ready."

“Mm, take me with you.” Theon murmured, holding his hand, leaning against him. He was melting under Ramsay’s affections, his praise and soft kisses and gentle reassurances.

Ramsay grinned, moving the tray aside to sit on the bedside table, and lifted Theon from the bed. He carried him over to the closet, setting him down to stand beside him, and picked out a comfy sweatshirt and jeans.

"Here, put these on," he said.

Theon did as he said, the sweatshirt a few sizes too big, but it was soft and warm and smelt like Ramsay. He smiled up at his boyfriend, lopsided and unfocused, still a bit sleepy. “Thank you, Rams.”

"Anything for you, babe." Ramsay picked him up again, carrying him like a princess down the staircase, and setting him down on one of the counter bar stools. The dogs were already inside, gamboling around the kitchen and having a generally great time as they devoured their breakfasts.

Theon’s smile brightened and then wavered as he looked at the dogs. “Um... Rams? Skinner- the girls wouldn’t ever hurt me, right? Because Skinner said they would, but they’re good girls, right?”

Ramsay paused. "They are very good girls..." he said slowly. "They do whatever I tell them to, no matter what, but you have nothing to worry about with them, babe. You're my perfect boy, right?"

Theon melted at the praise, nodding and reaching down to pet Number Nine as she trotted over to him. “Mm, okay.” He happily scratched behind her ears, glancing up as the doorbell rang. He frowned a little when Ramsay didn’t go to the door. “Rams? Are you gonna get that?”

Ramsay looked almost nervous. "You can, if you want." He was stroking the ears of his favorite girl, the biggest, Helicent, but as the doorbell rang again, his hand slid down to grip her collar. The three of them walked to the door together, Ramsay trailing along just behind Theon, Helicent at his heels.

Ramsay could see the cop car through a window as they passed, and he grit his teeth. He hadn't wanted it to be so soon; he wanted more time to sway Theon back to him. No matter, he thought. He could work with this. As Theon's hand grasped the doorknob, Helicent let out a rumbling growl, her lips curling. Theon turned, surprised and nervous, to be met with Helicent snarling at him, baring her teeth with foam at her black lips, dark eyes slanted and narrow. Ramsay's hand was maintaining a loose grip on her collar, and he wore an equally ugly expression. Helicent's hackles raised and her rear was half off the ground, ready to spring.

"Say one word," Ramsay warned, "and I'll let go of her collar."

Theon felt his heart shatter in his chest. Ramsay was threatening him. Helicent, who’d always been so sweet and loving, was snarling and furious and Ramsay was looking at him like he was ready to tear him to shreds. He wanted to burst into tears right there, scared and hurt, but he forced his smile back on his face and opened the door. “Hi, officer.”

The officer looked back at him, looking him up and down, her gaze trailing next to Ramsay and Helicent, who was suddenly looking sweet and friendly, lolling her tongue in a happy doggy grin.

"Are you Theon Greyjoy?" she asked.

“Mhm!” Theon nodded enthusiastically, ignoring the way his heart was pounding frantically in his chest. “That’s me.”

"Are you aware that you have been reported as kidnapped?" she asked seriously.

“I’m sorry, what?” Theon asked, snorting, as if shocked and amused. Robb. It must’ve been Robb. He was so stupid, of course Robb cared.

"You have been reported as kidnapped," she repeated slowly. "Do you know a Robb Stark?"

Theon glanced over to Ramsay, and at Helicent. “Yeah. I know one.”

"How about a Yara Greyjoy?" she continued.

Theon froze for a moment but quickly snapped out of it. “Yeah, that’s my sister. Why?”

"I take it you are Ramsay Bolton?" she asked, glancing at Ramsay. He nodded his affirmation, smiling at her. She sighed. "Do you have any idea why those two may have come to the station yesterday afternoon, to report you as kidnapped?"

Theon glanced at Ramsay again. He could say it. He could tell her right now and he could go home. He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

He could see Ramsay tense in his peripheral before he continued to speak.

“Robb is overprotective, and Yara is... well, Yara. Robb and I...” It hurt to lie, it hurt, and he was scared, but if he did good, he was sure Ramsay would go back to pampering again. He hoped. “Robb and I had kind of a thing, and he doesn’t really like Ramsay, so...”

"Stark said that you two had had a talk, and that you disappeared without a word the next morning. He said that you didn't bring any of your belongings, or your dog, when you left. Is this true?"

Theon sighed loudly. The questions were making him anxious. “Look, yes, it’s true, and I’m fine. Robb- listen, Robb lost his father recently, he’s just anxious, okay? I’m fine.”

"So you're telling me that Robb Stark and your sister filed a false police report?" Her blue eyes traced over the faint outline of bruising on Theon's cheek. "What happened there?"

Theon forced a laugh, rubbing his cheek. “I was playing with the dogs and we got a bit too rough, they’re big, y’know, I got a little beat up.”

He was scared. His heart was racing and he felt like he couldn’t breath, but he was acting well and he knew- or rather hoped- that it meant Ramsay wouldn’t hurt him after.

The officer nodded. She looked between them, clearly still suspicious. "May I come in? Take a look around?"

"Sure," Ramsay said, shrugging. "Kitchen is this way."

Theon went over to Ramsay, taking hold of his arm and leaning his head on his shoulder. He didn’t want Ramsay mad. He didn’t want Ramsay to hurt him. He hoped and prayed silently that the way Ramsay had been acting this morning wasn’t just a ploy.

The officer watched, observing the easy way they fell into affection with each other. They didn't seen as though they were acting; even if Greyjoy was lying to cover for Bolton, it was highly unlikely he would be so willingly affectionate with him, cuddling against him like that.

Ramsay toured them around, showing the clean, safe living arrangements.

Theon stayed at Ramsay’s side the whole time, occasionally nuzzling his face against his neck and giving him soft kisses, trying to keep him in a good mood.

By the time she had seen what she wanted to see, the officer was reluctantly agreeing that nothing seemed to be out of sorts.

"One last question, Mr. Greyjoy," she said. "Mr. Stark complained about you ignoring him? He said that you wouldn't do that, even if you were fighting, and from what he said you two were on good terms when you left."

Oh no. He didn’t want to say anything bad about Robb, he didn’t, but he could feel Ramsay tense a bit next to him, and he knew what he had to say. “Robb Stark has wanted me gone, and now I’m gone. I’m fine here. Tell him to worry about something else and leave me alone.”

"I see," she said. "I'll let him know. Have a nice day, you two." As she left, she still wasn't quite at peace, and her intuition wanted her to go back, but maddeningly, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the situation— besides the fact that she just didn't like it. Even the dogs were sweet and well-behaved. She shook her head, climbing into her car and driving away.

Back inside, Theon was finding out just how well-behaved those dogs were. Ramsay was looking disapprovingly at Theon.

"Stark reported you as kidnapped?" he snapped.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Theon took a step back, not liking the look on Ramsay’s face and not understanding why Ramsay was mad at him.

"If you hadn't told him— you want him to come rescue you, is that it?" Ramsay roared, punching a hole through the door of an overhead cabinet.

Theon flinched, stepping back further and looking in the direction of the front door. “I- I didn’t- Ramsay, why are you mad? I was good, I didn’t tell her anything!”

"You were good? You think you were good? She didn't believe you!" Helicent was snarling at him again, glaring fiercely up at Theon. The other dogs were on their feet now, growling softly, riled up by the angry atmosphere.

“She- She-“ Theon stammered, looking at Ramsay then down at the dogs, frozen in place for a moment before sprinting toward the door.

"Go!" he screamed, and in an instant Helicent was upon him, tearing into his thigh, dragging him down to the ground. She ripped through the jeans, sinking her fangs into the muscles of his calf.

Theon screamed as he hit the floor, as her teeth tore into his legs, and he felt fat, hot tears pouring down his cheeks. “Get off!” He shrieked, shoving at her. Her teeth sunk into his arm instead and he howled in pain, looking up at Ramsay in shock.

The other girls circled around them, barking and howling hunting cries, and Helicent's massive paw planted itself on Theon's back, pinning him down, breath fanning hot over his neck.

“I didn’t do anything!” Theon shouted, shivering and crying as blood seeped from his arm and leg, soaking into the clothes Ramsay had just given him.

Just as Helicent's teeth sank into his shoulder, she was slammed to the side by a furry black mass. Number Nine had charged her, the youngest dog still not fully trained, and stood snapping and snarling at Theon's side, trying to ward Helicent off. Helicent growled, lunging for Nine’s throat as Ramsay shouted at them, trying to break it up.

“Nine, no!” Theon sobbed, sitting up weakly to grab her and keep her from Helicent. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her toward him. He’d rather Helicent bite him than Nine, and his heart felt even more wounded at the thought that Nine could’ve gotten killed for defending him.

Helicent tore at Number Nine’s shoulder, knocking the smaller dog to the ground with a loud whine. Helicent lunged again for her throat, inches away, but the next second, Ramsay had grabbed Helicent by the collar and was hauling her away, still shouting. He looked paler and more scared than Theon had ever seen, having come much closer to losing one of his girls than he ever had before.

Theon pulled Nine onto his lap, not caring that his arm and leg and shoulder were aching and oozing blood. Nine was bleeding too, and he cried harder when she whimpered from the pain. “Thank you.” He whispered to the smallest dog, fingers shaking as he stroked her soft fur. “R-Ramsay- please help her.” He whimpered, looking up at Ramsay with eyes full of pain and fear.

"Of course," Ramsay snapped, already on it. He shooed Helicent away, glaring at her, and examined Nine’s wound with a tender touch. It was deep, but not debilitating; she would be fine, with stitches and some rest.

Theon stared at the dog, still gently stroking her side, worried as he looked at the fur matted with blood on her shoulder. He was more worried about her than himself- she’d tried to defend him. She wouldn’t hurt him. He gave Helicent a betrayed look, not that it was really her fault, and then looked back to Nine. “Good girl.” He praised softly.

"Bad girl," Ramsay countered, bapping Nine on the nose. "Never get in between Heli and her prey. You know better."

Ramsay turned his icy gaze on Theon, surveying his wounds.

“Good girl.” Theon whispered to her again, giving her a tiny kiss on the head. He shrunk back under Ramsay’s gaze, wishing he could disappear into the floor.

"Can you stand?" he asked gruffly, picking up Nine. She whined, laying her head against Ramsay's shoulder, her leg flopping limply as he carried her.

“You’re kidding, right?” Theon refused to look at Ramsay. Helicent had just bit deep into his leg, he obviously couldn’t fucking stand- at least not well.

"Stand up, or lay there and wait. Your decision." He stomped off into the other room, laying Number Nine down on the couch and heading to the bathroom to retrieve medical supplies.

As if it was really a decision. Theon tried to stand up, using his unbitten arm as support against the wall, but yelped and collapsed back onto the floor the second he tried to put weight on his bad leg. He looked around, noting that neither Ramsay nor any of the dogs could see him, and started slowly and carefully dragging himself toward the front door.

Having found the med kit, Ramsay turned to leave the bathroom, only to see the dragging progress Theon was making down the hall. He silently stepped out of the doorway, watching with bounding amusement, as Theon slowly but surely made his way down the hall. He waited until Theon reached the door, looking up at it and realizing that he couldn't reach the knob in his crippled position.

"Can't reach?" he asked, striding towards him.

Theon whimpered softly, looking at Ramsay in terror before turning to frantically try to reach the doorknob. He could hear Ramsay’s footsteps, he knew he was getting closer. He tried to lift himself up again but fell back with a pathetic sob.

Ramsay stooped over him, grabbing him under the armpits and lifting him just enough so he could grip the doorknob. "There you go," he said softly, grinning. "Just needed a couple more inches."

Theon was confused and scared but his heart was pounding and he knew he needed to get out. He opened the door and swung his good leg back to slam it up between Ramsay’s legs, surprising him enough to let go. Theon dragged himself out onto the porch, gaze landing on Ramsay’s car. If he could get to it, even if he didn’t have the keys, he could lock himself in and hide from Ramsay.

"Jez," Ramsay called boredly. "Fetch."

The dog went charging past him, latching on to the hood of Theon's sweatshirt, and dragged him roughly back inside with no mind to his torn up leg or arm. Ramsay slammed the door shut.

"How cute," he drawled. "You thought I would let you get away?"

Theon didn’t answer, he just sobbed, blood smearing on the floor when Jez dragged him. He couldn’t believe the dogs attacked him. He couldn’t believe that he’d been so stupid as to trust Ramsay again.

"In here, Jezzy," Ramsay said, guiding her into the living room. Jez dumped Theon on the hardwood floor beside the couch where Nine lay. The dog whined again, panting in pain. Ramsay moved to her side, stroking her, cleaning the wound with a damp cloth.

“Bastard.” Theon mumbled under his breath, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel his blood continuing to soak into his clothes, his wounds aching horribly, sharp pains every time he moved. He should’ve told the cop the truth.

Ramsay applied great care in stitching up Nine’s torn up shoulder, and wrapped a bandage around it when he was finished. He turned to Theon and cleaned his wounds with antiseptic, ignoring his hisses of pain, and stitched them with precision, but less care than he had shown with Nine. When he finished, he bandaged them.

Theon thought he might pass out when Ramsay stitched his wounds. He could feel the needle in his skin and it made him want to gag, but he just stared at the ceiling in silence instead. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d lied for Ramsay, when Ramsay hadn’t even asked him too, and he’d been punished for it. He’d been attacked. He should’ve told the cop the truth, should’ve told her to tell Robb he was right. He wanted Robb. He wanted Robb to come save him and take him home and hide him from Ramsay fucking Bolton. He wanted to hear Robb’s voice, hear the reassurance that it wasn’t his fault. He thought about Robb as Ramsay bandaged him, brushing up painfully against his wounds. He whimpered Robb’s name softly and shut his eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears.

What if Ramsay killed him? What if he never got to see Robb again? The thought was almost too much to bear. Ramsay wasn’t going to let him go, and the cop was going to go tell Robb that Theon didn’t want to talk to him anymore, when Theon truly wanted more than anything else for Robb to come get him.


	32. Chapter 32

"I am sorry, Mr. Stark, I know this must be difficult for you to grasp, but Mr. Greyjoy is perfectly fine. He just does not want to talk to you," the officer said again, looking agitated but not altogether annoyed-- the situation rubbed her the wrong way as well. Robb shook his head.

"Officer Tarth, that can't be true..." The five of them were sat at the Stark kitchen table: Catelyn, Robb, Yara, Jon, and the officer. Catelyn silenced Robb with a look

"Brienne," she began, looking imploringly at her friend. "There has to be something more, something odd."

“I searched the house. Bolton had no problem letting me look around, and Greyjoy was being rather affectionate to him the whole time. It really does seem as if he just doesn’t want to remain in contact.”

“Bullshit!” Yara snapped, slamming her fist down on the table. “You’re gonna tell me that bastard raped my brother, and now my brother is all lovey-dovey and wants to stay with him?”

"I have a tough time believing it as well," Officer Tarth said, "and in all honesty, it looks like a case of Stockholm Syndrome to me, but the higher-ups won't allow me to further pursue it."

"Who are your higher-ups?" Robb demanded. Officer Tarth opened her mouth, perhaps to tell him off, perhaps to actually tell him, but he interrupted. "Who is your direct boss?"

"The chief of police in my department," she said, "is Jaime Lannister. But if you expect to sway his mind--"

"Lannister?" Jon asked, aghast. "Really?"

“He assaulted my brother!” Yara snarled, furious, her face reddening with anger.

“There was...” Brienne sighed. “He has bruises on his face, but he insists they’re from playing with the dogs. And the dogs all seemed to be rather friendly.”

“Go check again!” Yara slammed her fist against the table a second time.

"I will, but I cannot promise different results," Officer Tarth said.

"Thank you for trying, Brienne," Catelyn murmured, looking thoroughly drained.

"Of course, Cat. I do have other news, better news, too." They all looked at her, curious, and Catelyn even dared to look hopeful. "Jaime did dedicate extra attention to your case, Cat, and... we've found the man who killed Ned."

"You have?" Cat breathed.

"His name is Ilyn Payne," Tarth said. "The evidence is undoubted, however he is currently on the run. Our forces are hunting him."

Yara, clearly enraged about Theon and not caring about a dead man she didn’t know, stood abruptly and stormed out of the room.

“Ilyn Payne?” Jon questioned. The name sounded familiar. “Wasn’t he friends with the Lannisters?”

"Yes, he worked closely with them, and Robert Baratheon before he died, but he is a criminal now, and Jaime is hunting him down like the dog he is."

At Jon's feet, Ghost lifted his head, clearly offended.

"You'll let me know when you find him, won't you?" Catelyn asked, clasping Brienne's hands in hers.

"Of course, Cat." She rose to leave, and bid her goodbyes. Robb and Jon turned and discussed quiet ways to rescue Theon, fantasies that they could never actually pull off, but it was nice to dream. Catelyn, conflicted, both pleased by the news and distressed over Theon's situation, resolved to make cookies for her children.

* * *

 

Theon was back in the basement. The collar was on his neck and the ratty blanket was wrapped around his naked body. Ramsay had taken the clothes he was wearing, as they were filthy and soaked and stained in blood. His skin was still covered in dry blood, Ramsay hadn’t given a fuck about that. He once again had no clue how long he’d been in the basement, only that his stitched up wounds ached and itched and his heart was heavy.

The door opened and light flooded in: Ramsay entered, bearing a plate of plain toast, a bottle of water, and his med kit.

"Hungry?" he asked.

“No.” Theon lied, voice empty and without emotion. He didn’t want anything from Ramsay. He refused to look at him.

"No?" He set the food down anyways. "You will be. Let me see your arm," he ordered, reaching out.

Theon didn’t obey, instead scooting back further away from him and hiding his arm behind his back.

Ramsay looked greatly annoyed, but merely grabbed Theon's leg instead, pulling it towards him painfully. The wound was stitched cleanly, set to heal, though it would definitely leave a scar. Ramsay inspected it with little care, cleaning it and reapplying the bandage.

Theon whimpered quietly as Ramsay handled the wound, his touches not gentle at all and just making Theon ache more. He almost wanted it to get infected, if only to inconvenience the bastard more. He kept silent as Ramsay tended to the wound, looking down at him. His other leg was perfectly fine, in close proximity to Ramsay’s face. He made the decision in a second. He slammed his knee up into Ramsay’s face while he was bent over and focused on the wound, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he did. He reached out, snatching up the med kit and frantically rummaging through it to find something with which to pick the lock of his collar.

Fuming, Ramsay grabbed Theon by the hair and bashed his head against the pole, his nose bleeding freely down his face.

"Don't think that I won't kill you if you push me!" he roared.

“Do it.” Theon hissed, stars dancing in his vision. His lopsided smile grew on his lips at the sight of Ramsay bleeding in front of him. His hand wrapped around a pair of metal tweezers he found in the kit and he lifted them to try and pick at the lock on the collar.

Ramsay snarled. Despite what he said, he didn't want to actually kill Theon— the last thing he wanted was to see him dead. Why wouldn't he just break? He slapped Theon's hands away, pinning them down, and slammed his skull against the pole again. Blood trickled down from under Theon's hair.

Theon laughed.

His head hurt so fucking bad, his vision was starry and swimming and he could feel the blood trickling down the back of his neck. But Ramsay was bleeding, too. Ramsay was enraged and bloody and Theon felt triumphant, not caring at the moment of how he’d be punished for this outburst.

Ramsay did it again, and again, until Theon slumped limply against the pole, eyes shut and mouth slack. There was blood splotched over the pole and the wall behind it, and Ramsay glared at it. Theon had made him, he hadn't wanted to. No matter; he was able now to check the bites on Theon's arm and shoulder, and after a moment's thought, he cleaned the new wound on the back of his head and bandaged that as well.

He stood up, wiping the blood off his face, thinking that he should probably go fix his probably broken nose. But first....

 

* * *

 

When Theon next woke, his ankles were bound together, chained to the pole, and he wore heavy shackles on his wrists.

His head was pounding, as if someone had smashed his skull in with a hammer. He was vaguely aware of what had happened before he passed out, but it was all so blurry. He felt sick and dizzy and confused, slowly opening his eyes. His vision was still swimming, as if he’d just spun around in a circle fifty times.

He tipped forward and threw up, any remnants of food he’d had recently emptying out of his stomach. He fell back to lean against the pole again after that, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to watch the world spinning around him.

"You made a mess," Ramsay said, bending over him. His eyes glittered with cruel amusement; his nose was swollen, but back in place. "Why don't you clean it up, like a good boy?"

Theon’s eyes opened back up and he squinted at Ramsay in confusion. “You- you’re spinning.” He mumbled. He giggled softly, hurt and confused, closing his eyes again a moment later.

"Am I?" he chuckled under his breath. With a deceptively gentle touch, he felt around the back of Theon's head for the lump he knew to be there; he was bound to have a concussion. "Poor babe. Know what would make you feel better?"

“Hmm, what?” Theon slurred, eyes still shut.

Ramsay pressed his smirking lips to Theon's, rough and devoid of love.

Theon whined, turning his head away. “How- How is that-“ He was slurring, squinting at Ramsay. “How’s that gonna make me f-feel better?

"You'll see," he said, pulling Theon's legs toward him. There was a bulge in the groin of his pants, impossible to miss.

“Huh- oh.” Theon frowned at the sight. “N-nuh uh Rams, I don’t wanna.” He pouted, eyes unfocused as he looked up at Ramsay.

"You don't want to?" Ramsay asked, pouting mockingly. "Poor Theon." He set about undoing his pants, pulling himself out.

“Rams, no...” Theon whimpered, not well enough to properly protest or put up a fight. He just wanted to sleep in a nice, warm bed, surrounded by blankets and with pillows to cushion his aching head. His blue green eyes were clouded, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open just a tiny bit.

"Do you want a bath tonight?" Ramsay asked. "Do you want pillows? A mattress? How about some pizza for dinner?"

“Yes,” Theon went to nod but stopped when he realized it hurt too much to move his head. “Drowned God, please, yes.” That sounded so good. Heavenly, almost.

"Lay back and be good, okay? You can have all of that if you do."

“What’re you gonna do, Rams?” Theon slurred, but he laid back anyway, too tempted by the idea of a bath, a bed, and food.

He answered him with actions rather than words, preparing him with spit-wet fingers, before taking him roughly.

True to his word, though, he carried Theon upstairs afterwards, letting him soak in the bathtub as long as he pleased.

Theon couldn’t bring himself to regret letting Ramsay fuck him, not when he was soaking in warm water. He dozed off in the tub after washing off all the dried blood, content to let all his sore muscles relax.

Ramsay had left Theon in the bathroom with the company of a dog, just to make sure he didn't do anything, and he worked on setting up Theon's bed in the basement. By bed, of course, it was a mattress on the floor beside the pole, with a soft new blanket and several squashy pillows. When that was done, he ordered three large pizzas and breadsticks for delivery and went back to the bathroom to check on Theon.

“Robb...” Theon murmured tiredly, his eyes shut. He had heard footsteps and all he could think of was how warm and good and safe he felt. He was too dizzy or confused to think of anything other than the current comfort and the smell of Grey Mists soap that Ramsay had left in the bathroom for him. Warm and relaxed and smelling like Robb, he could almost pretend he was at the Stark’s house.

Ramsay stood over him, observing his sleepy boyfriend. "No, it's Ramsay. Robb doesn't want you, remember? You were very good today," he said. "Don't mess up now."

“Not... Robb...” Theon murmured, lips curving downward into a frown. “Smells- it smells like Robb.”

"Smells like Robb? Does Stark use this soap? Is that why you like it so much?" Without a second's thought, Ramsay chucked the bottle into the garbage, and pulled Theon up out of the water.

Theon whined, reluctantly opening his eyes to look into Ramsay’s icy blue ones. “Why- Why did ya take me out?”

"Pizza is coming," Ramsay said, "and we have company." He drained the tub and dried him off, dressing him in a new sweatshirt and jeans.

Theon looked mournfully at the bottle of soap in the garbage. “Who?” He asked, and then as an afterthought, “Can I- Rams, painkillers?”

"Of course," he said, helping him out into the hallway and towards the kitchen.

“Mm, thank you, Rams.” Theon leaned heavily against him, limping from the dog bite on his leg.

When they entered the kitchen, Theon was surprised to hear laughing and chatter. He blinked slowly and looked around, noticing a group of men sitting at the counter. One of them, tall and slim with blonde hair and a boyish smile, looked up at him and snorted.

“This is your boyfriend, Rams, really?”

"He's reasonably well-behaved," Ramsay said. "We still have some work to do, though." He turned to Theon. "Say hi to the Boys, Theon."

Theon’s eyes narrowed as he again thought about what Robb told him about the boys, and then about what Skinner had said they did for fun. “No.” He looked down at the floor.

Damon sneered, shaking his head. “Oh c’mon, Rams, it’s been what- a whole damn month? Almost two? Normally you’d break ‘em or let us hunt ‘em by now.”

"He's a more difficult project," he explained. "He's proven to be more fun. Theon, go. I told you to say hello," he said, pushing him towards them.

Theon turned his glare onto Ramsay, stumbling to regain his balance. He repeated himself, more firm this time. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon pup.” Damon taunted, grinning widely at Ramsay’s new toy. Theon was a pretty little thing, even in his current state.

Ramsay smacked him upside the head, catching the lump. "You will do," he hissed, "as I tell you to do."

Theon yelped at the pain, earning a burst of laughter from the boys. He spoke, but he refused to look at them, staring back down at the floor. “Hello.”

"Why so shy all of a sudden?" Skinner asked, lounging against the counter. "You had such a mouth on you the other day."

Theon shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Because Ramsay had tricked him. Because Ramsay had told him he was good, had slept with him in bed and made him breakfast, had told him he loved him and acted so tender and gentle. Because Theon had been good, he’d been so good lying to the cop, and Ramsay had punished him anyway, sent one of his dogs to attack him. The bites itched as Theon thought about them and he closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to think about it and cry.

“He’s so boring, Ramsay. Let us hunt him, that’ll get him moving.” Damon’s eyes glinted with excitement.

"No," Ramsay snapped. "Not yet. He's not ready. Be patient."

He pushed Theon forward, making him sit in one of the stools next to Sour Alyn, who smelled like his name implied. "Go on, Theon, make friends."

What Theon really wanted to do was grab a beer bottle out of one of the boys’ hands and smash Ramsay over the head with it, but he wasn’t strong or coordinated enough to even try that. He just glowered at Ramsay from across the counter.

“He’s boring, Ramsay. You normally at least get them to scream a little.” Damon took a large swing of his beer. “You should let one of us have at him.”

"He's more resilient than the others were," Ramsay said, not too put-off by the admittance.

The doorbell rang, and Ramsay grinned. "Pizza is here," he said. "Who wants to get the door? Theon?"

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Theon spat, continuing to glare at Ramsay. Was he really going to make him limp over to the door and talk to the delivery guy when he looked like he’d just been attacked by a pack of angry hounds?

"Watch yourself, kid," Skinner warned, striding past them to collect the pizza. Sour Alyn leaned over, invading Theon's personal space, and Grunt crept up behind him, silent and creepy.

Theon tensed up, not liking the two boys being so close to him, especially when Sour Alyn’s breath smelled as if he’d brushed his teeth with sour beer. Yellow Dick was to the other side of him and as much as he wanted to lean away from Alyn, he didn’t want to get closer to another one of the boys. Damon watched from his own seat, visibly amused. “Back off.” Theon mumbled, looking down at the counter.

"Calm down, Theon," Ramsay said warningly. "They can't help being fascinated by you... It's been a while since they had a boy around. Normally, they meet my girls."

"We like the girls," Yellow Dick huffed. Grunt grunted, uncomfortably close to him.

Theon’s hands curled into fists in his lap and he tried to ignore them, ignore the way they were so close he could feel their breath on his skin.

“You’re almost as pretty as one.” Damon commented, toying with the end of the whip he had curled up and hanging from his belt.

"So are you, Damon," said Skinner the savior, returning with the three pizzas, two big boxes of breadsticks sitting on top of them.

“What can I say? I have good genes.” Damon teased, winking at Skinner.

Theon glanced up at the food, then over to Ramsay, not wanting to do the wrong thing and get beaten for it.

"Go ahead and eat," Ramsay said, nudging him forward. "You've been starving yourself."

Skinner opened the first box, revealing a cheesy pizza, half of it with meat. "Go on, kid. First pick."

Theon’s gaze darted around nervously before he leaned forward a bit, grabbing a slice of plain cheese and nibbling at it. He was hungry, yes, but if he ate too much too fast he knew he’d puke. He was already dizzy and a bit nauseas anyway, and he didn’t want to make it worse.

Damon butted in front of the others in line, grabbing the second slice before going to sit back on his stool and eat.

Ramsay brought out a pitcher of water, pouring a glass for Theon and pushing it towards him. "Drink up," he said, "slow, so you don't get sick."

Skinner exchanged a look with Damon, smirking. Deny as Ramsay did, they could see that he had a real attachment to this one, different as he was from the usual kind Ramsay played with.

Damon caught Skinner’s look and snickered to himself. As disappointing as it was that they probably wouldn’t get to play much with this one, he was amused by the way Ramsay seemed to handle him.

Theon hesitantly picked up the glass, eyeing Ramsay as he took a sip. He really just wanted to go back up to bed and lay there for hours, but he knew Ramsay wouldn’t allow it. He continued eating and drinking slowly until he finished the first slice, then went back to staring at his fists in his lap.

The boys had, by now, devoured the rest of the first pizza and half of the second. Ben Bones was feeding pieces of meat pizza to the girls, who sat nearby, waiting patiently for scraps.

Ramsay grabbed a cheese slice and slapped it on Theon's plate. "Eat that, and you can go to bed, okay? I can see that you're tired."

Theon looked up at him with sad, tired eyes. “Rams,” He mumbled, “I’m not hungry.”

Damon bit back a laugh. It was pathetic, really, the way Theon was looking at Ramsay.

"Eat it, kid," Skinner said. "He's being awful nice to you, you know? Don't push it." With one foul look, he shooed Grunt and Sour Alyn away from their close proximity to Theon, a generous attempt to make him comfortable enough to eat; of course, he was really just impatient for the Boys' after-dinner games.

If Ramsay wanted him to eat so fucking bad, he could deal with him puking on his bed, Theon decided. He ate the second slice, trying to do it quickly, and looked back up at Ramsay. “Can I sleep now?”

"Yes, Theon," Ramsay said, and stood up to lead Theon to bed. Theon veered automatically towards the stairs up to Ramsay's bedroom, but Ramsay pulled him towards the basement, much to his dismay.

“R-Rams, no, what did I do?” Theon whined, stopping his walking and digging his heels into the ground. “You said- you said I could go to bed!”

"You are going to bed," Ramsay said, picking him up and carrying him down the stairs. "I still can't quite trust you, though..."

“That’s not- you’re gonna lock me up all alone, and in the dark- that’s not bed, Rams, I didn’t do anything! Don’t put me down there!” He looked up at Ramsay with desperate eyes, clinging to his shirt.

"Shhh, Theon, look—" He brought Theon into his little room and showed him the bed he had made for him, mattress and blankets and pillows.

“You’re gonna lock me up!” Theon repeated. He didn’t want to be alone in the basement, cold and dark and quiet. He refused to let go of Ramsay’s shirt.

"Only the collar," he soothed. "You were good today. Go on," he coaxed, "go to bed."

Theon wanted to cry. “Don’t turn the lights off, Rams, promise?”

"How about I get you a night light?" Ramsay asked. "This light is so bright, I don't think you could sleep."

“Please don’t leave me in the dark.” His voice softened, looking pleadingly up at Ramsay, eyes wide and wet.

"I won't," Ramsay promised, and he locked the metal collar around Theon's neck before walking away, off to search through the storage boxes across the basement. He returned several minutes later bearing a nightlight, which he plugged into an outlet in Theon's little room. The old bulb flickered to life, illuminating the room with a soft light.

Theon curled up under the blankets, the collar reminding him of the garnet necklace that still laid around his neck. He looked up at Ramsay tiredly, then down to the nightlight, and then he closed his eyes and put his head down on the pillow.

"Good boy," Ramsay praised, and he turned off the light switch and left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

“Got the bitch to sleep?” Damon asked when Ramsay re entered the kitchen.

"Yeah," Ramsay said, sliding onto a stool. "He needs a little more reassurance than the rest of them."

Damon snorted. “Reassurance? How’s that work? Did you have to fuckin’ sing the bitch to sleep?”

"No... I had to give him a nightlight, like the ones I use for the girls when they're puppies," Ramsay grinned.

That got a good laugh out of the boys, but it quickly died down.

“Alright, Rams. We met your toy. Are we gonna play now?” Damon’s face went serious.

"Of course," he purred. "Thank you for being so patient. Luton, I believe you did the honors?"

Luton grinned and rose from his stool, walking swiftly from the room and returning with a terrified young girl in a torn dress. "Picked 'er up from th' club," he grunted, tossing the girl to the floor. She fell, shaking, pulling the short skirt dress down over her rear as though to cover herself. One of her high heels was broken.

“Oh, she’s pretty.” Damon taunted, standing up from his stool. He towered over her, smirking at her. “What’s your name, little girl?”

"K-Kyra..." she stammered, looking fearfully up at them all. Her eyes lingered with recognition on Ramsay's face. "You- you're Theon's boyfriend. What...?"

"Kyra?" Skinner said, kneeling down next to her. "We're going to play a game."

"It's called hide-and-seek," Ramsay continued. "You know hide-and-seek? You hide... and we seek!"

Grunt grunted and Damon laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, Rams. She knows Theon. Do you think she’s got as much fight in her as he does?”

"Let's hope so," Ramsay said. He hauled Kyra up to her feet and pushed her to the back door, opening it to show her the huge fenced yard and expansive forest beyond it. "So, Kyra... We'll give you a head start of say, four minutes? Starting when you get over the fence, because we're generous. Pick the best hiding spot you can, and if we can't find you, you get a prize! How does that sound?"

She shook wordlessly, terror plain in her eyes, clutching at her dress. Ramsay grinned, and pushed her outside. She stood for a moment, looking at him, looking at the others, before the huge form of Helicent appeared behind Ramsay, and his grin broadened. She turned and ran, clambering clumsily over the fence, and Ramsay's shout echoed behind her.

"Count down— begin!”

“I bet she’s fun, that one.” Damon sneered, watching her from the back porch. “I’d love a nice fight, but I also haven’t had a girl in forever.” He liked the looks of this one, it was obvious, and he was quite fascinated that of all the people Luton could’ve picked, he managed to pick a girl who knew Ramsay’s newest pet.

The five minutes went by painfully slow for the boys- and terrifyingly fast for Kyra- but soon enough the dogs were running loose into the woods and the boys were following.

The dogs leaped one by one over the fence, bolting into the woods, followed closely by Ramsay and his Boys. The girls branched out in their search, howling as they caught the scent, and the pack was soon pelting along as one, hot on the trail of the fleeing girl.

"You didn't want to hide?" Ramsay called out. "You wanted to run instead? Tell you what— if you make it out of the woods, you win!"

Kyra sobbed in desperation, running faster than she had ever run in gym class, but her broken heel was treacherous and she stumbled, fatally. Within seconds, the biggest of the dogs was upon her, whirling teeth and deafening barks, and then there were hands, and she was torn from the dog's possession and dragged into the midst of men.

"No, please—" she sobbed brokenly. "Please, let me go!"

Damon removed his whip from his belt, slowly uncurling it before cracking it in the air to make sure it was working properly. He grinned wickedly down at Kyra, looking her up and down before nodding to Ramsay. “You want first go, Rams?”

"I think we can go together, Damon," Ramsay said, pulling her legs up and exposing her to their hungry eyes. "She has the room— look, she's crying for how badly she wants it. Let's help her out, shall we?"

She put up a good fight- one of the best they’d ever had. She was hot and tight and angry. She’d screamed and kicked, biting and punching and struggling up to the very end. She wasn’t quite so pretty when they were done with her, especially not once Skinner’s knife was carefully sliding under her skin. They were all bloody by the time she’d taken her last breath.

She’d even screamed Theon’s name a few times, screamed for him to help her, as if he could do anything from where he was chained in a basement.

She was ugly afterward, really, lying dead on the forest floor. A good fight was fun, but it always ended with an uglier corpse, covered in all sorts of wounds. Skinner would do his job either way, but it was a shame to see such a pretty girl go to waste.

Once Skinner had finished his job, the hounds took care of the rest and they were heading back to Ramsay’s house. Damon curled his whip back up, a bit of a skip in his step.

“Did tonight give you a name for Number Nine?” Damon asked, grin widening as he looked down at the smallest dog, fur around her muzzle matted with blood.

Ramsay stroked Number Nine's velvety ears. With some coaxing, she had dealt the final blow, tearing into the girl's soft throat, tearing her wretched life out.

"I think so," he said, looking affectionately at his good pup. Well sated and content, the Boys all went to their respective bedrooms, and Ramsay went downstairs to visit his boyfriend.

Theon was sleeping as peacefully as one could with a metal collar around their neck, curled up in the blankets, one pillow under his head and the other clutched between his arms.

"Theon," Ramsay said softly, placing a bloody hand on his shoulder. "Theon, wake up. I have good news."

Theon woke easily, wrinkling his nose at the scent of blood and scooting away from Ramsay’s hand when he saw it was covered in it. “W-What? What?”

"I finally found a name for Number Nine," he said excitedly, a soft grin on his blood-speckled face. Theon stared back at him in blank horror.


	33. Chapter 33

He could imagine it, and it made him sick. Kyra. Soft, kind, gentle Kyra. Kyra, who’d asked him so many times to be her boyfriend, who’d understood every time he said no. Kyra, who he hadn’t spoken to in months because he was too damn stubborn to reach out to her. Kyra, who loved to kiss him while they fucked, who cried out when he sucked hickeys onto her skin, who told him she loved him without expecting him to say it back. The first girl he’d ever slept with, the first girl he ever kissed. 

He sobbed, he couldn’t help it. 

He could imagine it, her getting held down and raped over and over, her terror as she ran through the woods and heard the dogs barking behind her, the agony as the dogs tore into her. He could remember her pretty brown hair and her pretty smooth skin, but now all he could imagine was her body covered in bites and bruises, her hair dirty and tangled, her body limp and lifeless. 

Had she really screamed his name, screamed for him to help her as she was brutally raped and murdered? Had he really slept through it, comfortable and warm and (relatively) unhurt? 

Kyra, sweet Kyra, innocent Kyra, loving Kyra, who’d always come over whenever Theon asked her to, be it to fuck or to cry. He wished it was him instead, chased through the woods, terrified and wounded. He wished he never had to imagine what she looked like with the life gone from her eyes. 

Her hands had always been so small and soft, her lips pink and plump and warm against his, her eyes always so bright and her voice always so pretty and light. Ramsay had killed her. No- Ramsay and the boys had raped her and then, when they grew bored, they let the dogs kill her. Oh poor Kyra, spending her last hours of life in agony and terror. 

He pressed his face against the pillow and sobbed, his whole body shaking. He couldn’t help but blame himself. Was Ramsay bored of him? Did he make Ramsay mad, so mad that he had to find an innocent to take it out on? Theon felt so sick and so guilty and he almost wished Ramsay would carry out his threat from the other day and just kill him. 

"You keep crying," Ramsay complained. "Do you not like the name? Is that it?" Kyra stuck her nose in Theon's face to lick him, spots of blood still dried in the fur around her muzzle. "Oh, see? Kyra wants you to stop crying, too."

“I hate you,” Theon sobbed, the words muffled somewhat by the pillows. “You’re cruel and sick and I hate you.” He couldn’t even look at the dog, the pup who was his favorite of the nine, the one who’d protected him from Helicent. 

"Don't talk to Kyra like that," Ramsay scolded, pulling the dog away. "She's a very good girl, actually. This was only her second hunt, and she's already got herself a name. You should be proud of her."

“Not her.” Theon pulled the blanket up, hiding his face. He didn’t want to look at Ramsay or Kyra. 

"Me? You think I'm cruel and sick? Theon, we were just having fun. One day, I'll take you along, okay? And you can see how fun it is for yourself! The way they cry and beg..." Ramsay smiled fondly. "You would love it."

“No,” Theon moaned. “She didn’t do anything. Kyra was good, Kyra was innocent and sweet.”

"Kyra? Kyra tore that girl's throat out, like a good girl. I wouldn't call her innocent anymore... Right, girl?" He patted Kyra's head and she nuzzled him, licking his hand.

“That girl,” Theon sobbed, “Kyra, my Kyra, you killed her, you all killed her.”

"Well, no... We didn't. Kyra did." Ramsay reasoned.

Theon practically screamed into the pillow and turned onto his back, eyes red rimmed and streaming with tears. He looked Ramsay in the eye. “I. Hate. You.”

"Do you? That's unfortunate," he sighed, "because I was going to take you out today. I guess you'll be fine on your own for a while. Come on, Kyra," he called, taking the pup with him and leaving Theon alone in the basement, door still wide open.

Theon screamed in frustration, staring at the open door. He grabbed hold of the chain connecting his collar to the pole, yanking at it desperately. “Let me go, you fucker!” He shouted after him. 

Upstairs, Ramsay was speaking with Yellow Dick. 

"The girls picked it clean, but we still need to bury the remains," he said. "Take Grunt with you, and find a good spot."

“Gotcha.” Yellow Dick sounded enthusiastic, but had the same nasty look as ever on his face, as if someone had just told him they fucked his mother. He went to turn and walk to the back door, but paused and glanced back to Ramsay. “Hey boss, when are you gonna let us boys have a go at that pretty new toy of yours?”

Grunt grunted in agreement, lips twisting up into a grin. 

"Soon," Ramsay promised. "Once he's broken in. He's awfully upset right now, about that girl. Give it a week, then we'll see."

Grunt and Yellow Dick decided that was a good enough answer and headed outside. 

“I want to make him dance.” Damon purred, stroking the length of his whip. He’d cleaned and oiled it after the hunt, and it looked good as new. 

"One more week," Ramsay said. "Then, you can do whatever you please. First, let me play with him a little while longer."

Damon’s smile was bright and wicked as he cracked his whip in the air, relishing the loud sound it made. “One week. Sounds good to me. If you don’t have him broken in by then, this should do the trick.” 

"The final push that he needs," Ramsay said thoughtfully. "Perfect. I hope you give it your all, Damon."

“Oh you know I will, Ramsay.” Damon winked at him. He looked boyish and innocent, with a grin and glistening green eyes that made it seem as if he knew something no one else did. “I’ll make that bitch of yours scream louder than you’ve ever heard.” 

"I look forward to it," Ramsay said, smirking. "Skinner, you'll check on him today, won't you? I have things I need to take care of. My father," he sneered, "needs more leeches."

"Yeah," he drawled. "I'll bring the kid his lunch. He's probably desperate for some company besides you."

Theon was still crying. He’d hidden himself in a cocoon of pillows and blankets, curled up as small as he could get, and he didn’t even notice when Skinner came downstairs. All he could hear were his own muffled sobs and he was content to keep it that way. He was scared that if he went quiet and listened, he’d hear the boys upstairs talking about Kyra. 

"Hey," Skinner said. "Quit your whining. I brought you something." He crouched down next to him, holding out a bowl of pasta with sauce. "The sauce is homemade," he said. "Roose's wife made it."

“I hope it splashed and burned you on the way down.” Theon mumbled into the pillows. His stomach growled at the prospect of a homemade meal, but he didn’t want to leave the safety of his blanket cocoon. 

Skinner rolled his eyes. "That's mature. I'm doing you a favor, you know. I could be Sour Alyn... You liked how he smelled last night, didn't you?"

Theon groaned in disagreement, poking his head out from under the blankets, his hair a mess and his face was puffy and red. He scowled up at Skinner. “I don’t like him.” 

"Ramsay? You will," he said. "He's being quite good to you, you know, better than he usually is with his pets. He's delaying Damon, which isn't an easy feat. Damon always gets what he wants."

Theon had been referring to Sour Alyn, but it was true that he didn’t like Ramsay either. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself as Skinner talked about Damon. “Delaying him?” 

"He wants a piece of you so badly," Skinner murmured. "It's driving him crazy that Ramsay won't let him have you. Ramsay's never kept a pet to himself this long... We're all wondering why. But Damon... Damon's waiting for you to fuck up, for Ramsay to let him punish you."

Damon was the one with the whip, Theon remembered, dark, oiled leather coiled carefully and hanging from his belt. He swallowed hard, growing more nervous as Skinner talked. “He- I won’t fuck up.” His voice was softer, weaker. “I won’t give him what he wants.” 

"So you'll fall into Ramsay?" Skinner asked. "Give Ramsay want he wants? Either way... You lose, kid. You're not getting out of here in one piece, whether Ramsay breaks you, or Damon does."

“He won’t hurt me if I don’t fight him.” There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Don't fight him, then." Skinner set the bowl down beside Theon and stood up. "Give in, do everything that you told yourself you wouldn't do. Accept that you're Ramsay's pet, his favorite toy, but don't forget that if you break—when you break, he'll throw you to us."

“He won’t.” Theon shook his head. “He won’t give me to you, he won’t.” Ramsay wouldn’t want other people touching his toy, Theon knew that much. After a moment of thought, he spoke again. “Skinner? What’s he gonna do to me? What did he do to the others?” 

"First, he plays with you," he answered slowly. "Then, when he gets tired of that, he breaks you. He always does it in different ways; I can't tell you how. Broken toys get boring fast, you know, so... Then it's our turn."

“How long?” He blurted out. “How long until they break? How long until you get them?” 

"It's always different. You've lasted the longest, now. Usually, they're half-broken by the time he brings them home."

“Does he always date them first?” Ramsay was his boyfriend. Ramsay had said he loved him. 

"Sometimes. Sometimes, they're just friends. He had a girl once, Myranda. She broke fast, but she got more fun afterwards. He kept her around, dated her, then she got herself arrested, and killed in prison." Skinner shrugged, uncaring.

Theon sat up slowly, pulling the plate into his lap. “You seem- out of all the boys, you seem-“ He took a deep breath and looked pleadingly up at Skinner. “Let me go, please? I’ll run away, I’ll go far away and I won’t tell anyone.”

"If I do that," Skinner said, "he'll set the others on me. Why should I risk that for you?"

“When all the boys are around, he won’t know it was you. Please. I’ll do whatever you want, just- just help me, please?” 

"No," Skinner said firmly. "You'll run, back to your Starks, and they know. They'll send the police again, take us all away, re-home the girls... I won't let you destroy this."

“Please, I won’t tell them!” Theon begged. “I’ll do anything you want, anything! I have money in my bank account, my family has money, or I- I can sleep with you, if you want, just take this collar off me!” 

"No," Skinner repeated. He turned away Theon, dragging an amused gaze over the nightlight. "And you think you're not his pet."

“I’m not. I’m not a pet.” Theon whimpered, poking at the pasta with the plastic fork. 

"Keep telling yourself that, kid," Skinner said, leaving him behind in the relative darkness. The door was left open once more.


	34. Chapter 34

Theon ached. 

He was thankful for the mattress and the pillows and the blanket, and he was thankful that all he had to wear was the collar and none of the other restraints, but that was about the only positive part of his situation. 

He had no clue what day it was, no clue how long it’d been since he’d last left the basement. It was the day the boys visited, that he knew, but how long ago was it? He tried to keep track of time, counting meals and Ramsay’s visits, but the beatings and rapes left him disorientated and more focused on the pains in his body than anything else. It seemed that Ramsay was punishing him for the smallest of things now, as if he were looking for excuses to hurt him. If he had to guess, he’d say it was a week since he’d been out of the basement, since that wretched collar had been off of his neck. Though, to him, it felt as if he’d been down there for months. 

He’d gotten to spend time with a few more of the boys, and had quickly decided that Yellow Dick was his least favorite. The man was ugly, sickly looking. He always looked angry and unamused but his eyes would roam over Theon’s body, and he’d make comments that sent chills of fear up Theon’s spine. Skinner, on the other hand, was his favorite. Skinner talked to him normally, and he didn’t look at Theon as if he wanted to tear into him. Skinner would listen to him cry about his hurts, and while he showed no sympathy, he didn’t beat Theon for crying either. 

When he was alone, he’d play with the garnet necklace that hung down from under his collar, he’d stare at the night light and squint and look around the room, trying to see every little detail, every bump and scratch on the wall. He once noticed a metal hook attached to the ceiling, but thinking of its possible uses made him feel sick, so he hadn’t looked at it since. 

He was almost starting to grow eager for Ramsay’s visits. Sometimes Ramsay came with good food and soft words, would cuddle up behind Theon on the mattress and play with his hair, and Theon craved that more than anything. More often than not, however, Ramsay would just come downstairs, rape him, beat him for some minor transgression, and then leave him to bleed and cry alone. He didn’t know how to feel, never knew how to talk to Ramsay, never knew how Ramsay would act toward him. He didn’t know if he was anxious for him to come down or if he dreaded it. It was all so confusing. When Ramsay held him, he felt as if he were in love with the man again, but then he’d beat him and Theon would feel nothing but fear and burning hatred. 

The last time Ramsay had visited, he hadn’t hurt him. He’d raped him, but it was slow, gentle, and afterward he’d held him in his arms and played with his hair until Theon fell asleep. Theon’s body was still aching from previous beatings, but none terribly recent, no sharp pains. He rested atop the mattress, curled up beneath the blankets, eyes shut and lashes fanned out over his cheeks. He wasn’t asleep, but he looked oddly peaceful there. 

Creaking of footsteps down the basement stairs drew his eyes open. The door to his room was perpetually left open now, but the glow from the nightlight wasn't enough to illuminate the outside, so the dark shape moving towards his room could not be identified. Whoever it was stopped just beyond the doorway, looking in at him.

"Are you happy?" Ramsay asked, finally stepping into the room.

Theon startled, eyes wide as he sat up and looked at Ramsay. “W-what?” 

"Are you happy?" Ramsay repeated, slowly, like he thought Theon might be stupid.

Oh no. Theon looked at him, expression full of fear. It was a trick. It was a trick, it had to be, Ramsay would be mad either way. If he said yes, he’d get in trouble for lying. If he said no, he’d get in trouble for being ungrateful. He pulled one of the blankets tighter around himself, as if it would hide him from the question. 

Ramsay crouched down, looking intensely at him. His eyes were ethereal in the nightlight's glow, almost white. "I asked you a question," he said quietly. "I expect an answer."

“I-I-“ Theon looked frantically around the room, as if the answer were written somewhere on the walls. “I- Ramsay...” He finally looked back into those icy blue eyes, gnawing nervously at his lower lip. 

"Theon," he sighed. "So disobedient..." He stood up again, stretching languidly. More people were coming down the stairs, seven of them, and one dog. Ramsay took Theon's hands in his own, pulling Theon up off the mattress, and he brought forth the heavy shackles, latching them around Theon's wrists, and attached to them a short chain that he hooked to the ceiling.

So much for ignoring the ceiling hook. Now it was being used on him, and Theon couldn’t help but think that Ramsay somehow knew it made him uncomfortable and was using it because of that. He knew it didn’t make sense, but most things didn’t these days. The collar around his neck tugged at his skin, the chain too short to let him have his body comfortably lifted up so high. “R-Rams- What-?” 

He cut off when he saw Damon. The blonde looked as happy as a child on Christmas morning, greased black whip in hand. The other boys didn’t come any closer to him than just standing along the walls of the room, but Damon walked right up to him, looking him up and down like a piece of meat. 

“Oh Ramsay, this should be fun.” Damon taunted, carefully uncurling his whip. “Your pet is going to look so pretty covered in lashes.”

Theon’s eyes grew even wider and he looked at Ramsay, visibly terrified. “Ramsay, no, Rams- this is a joke? You’re not actually going to let him hurt me?” 

"I promised, Theon, and I don't break promises. Besides," he said, turning away from him, turning his back on him, "naughty pets get punished. Unruly toys get broken. Don't they, Damon?"

“But I didn’t- I didn’t do anything! What did I do wrong?” Theon was trembling, arms pulled taut above his head, feet barely flat on the ground. 

Damon laughed lowly, nodding. “Oh yes, all of Ramsay’s toys get broken. Though, normally, I get to play with them sooner.” He cracked the whip in the air next to Theon, laughing when he flinched. “You ready to put on a show, pretty boy?” 

Ramsay ignored him, moving away to lean against the wall beside Skinner and watch. Grunt darted forward, dragging the ankle cuffs, and chaining Theon's ankles to the pole. The last boy slunk in, bearing the dog on a leash, the smallest dog, with a splash of white on her chest and round amber eyes.

Theon looked sadly down at Kyra, but he only had a moment to look at her before his whole body shook from the force of a hit and he screamed. Damon stood behind him, grin wide on his face. 

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” He hissed, grinning at the dark red welt the whip had left. “That was just a practice hit, don’t worry. It’ll get so much worse.”

“R-Ramsay- Rams-“ Theon stammered, shaking much worse now. “Ramsay, what did I do?” 

Ramsay looked blankly back at him, seeming to stare right through his very soul. Skinner shook his head.

"You could have listened to me, kid," he said. "I told you to give in, I told you what would happen."

"Damon, turn him around so we can see," Yellow Dick said eagerly.

Damon nodded, manhandling Theon to force him to turn around, not caring for his comfort. 

“I didn’t fight- I didn’t do anything wrong!” Theon looked at Skinner, eyes wide and wet and desperate, oh so desperate. “P-please, please don’t let-“ He cut himself off with another scream as Damon’s whip hit him again, cutting into the soft skin of his stomach. 

“Well, for starters, you talk to much.” Damon criticized, slowly walking around to stand behind Theon. His shoulder, arm, and thigh still all had ugly scabs and bruises from Helicent’s bites, the rest of his body covered in bruises from Ramsay’s own hands. He laughed aloud at the bruises on Theon’s hips, the dried come and blood on his inner thighs. He cracked the whip again, landing a harsh stroke across the center of Theon’s back. “You’re fucking filthy, too. Have you seen yourself?” 

Theon sobbed as Damon’s whip cut into his flesh, this time breaking the skin. He closed his eyes, hands curling into fists as it hit him again, and again. He could feel rivulets of blood trailing down his back. He could feel all the boys looking at him too, occasionally laughing, and their eyes felt as sharp and biting as the whip itself. 

Damon pulled his arm back and landed the hardest hit yet, diagonal across his back and crossing the few welts he’d already created. Theon screamed, jerking against his restraints, tears seeping out from the corners of his closed eyes. 

“If you ask me, I’m not sure,” Another hit, “why Ramsay has kept you whole for so long.” Damon’s grin was sharp, pupils blown, thrilled to watch Theon writhe and scream at the bite of his whip. “You’re pretty, bitch, but we’ve all had prettier. Softer, smoother, with long hair and thick curves. Like your Kyra.” 

“No!” Theon choked out, feeling as if the whip had hit his heart when Damon mentioned Kyra. His legs gave out when Damon laid a hit across the lower back of his thighs, just above the knees. The skin split open and bled, and Theon’s arms burned from the burden of his weight. 

“Didn’t your master teach you not to say no by now?” Damon’s voice was light, playful, taunting him as he cracked the whip across Theon’s ass. “Did he not teach you your fucking manners?”

Damon was strong- or, at least, he knew how to use a whip in the way that would cause the most damage. Theon opened his eyes to look at Ramsay, the blue-green looking so bright when rimmed with red and shining with tears. 

“P-please, Rams, please...” Theon begged weakly, heart aching when his boyfriend just stared at him. Ramsay didn’t even looked amused, he looked as if he didn’t care at all. He eyed Theon with disgust. He looked to Skinner next, crushed to see the man had a small smile on his lips and was obviously entranced by the way Damon’s whip was biting into his skin. Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn were both practically drooling, staring greedily at him, and Grunt had a hand shoved shamelessly down the front of his pants. Luton winked at him and Theon quickly went silent and closed his eyes again, bracing himself for the next hit. 

“You hear that, Rams?” Damon cracked the whip across Theon’s ass a few more times, making sure it was properly swollen, marked, and bloody before moving down to his thighs, pale and smooth and already mottled with bruises. “Please, please, he says. They’re normally ruined by the time I get them.” 

He made quick work of the backs of Theon’s thighs, lashing them over and over until they were a bloody mess to match his ass. 

“You’re fun, bitch. The girls normally just hang there limply and cry. You, you like to beg and scream still. You think you can get out of this.” He smacked Theon’s ass, causing Theon to scream in pain and the other boys to cheer, obviously amused. He did it again, Theon’s blood smearing over the palm of his hand. 

Damon cracked his whip across Theon’s back again, more intense hits, heavier and deeper, ones that made Theon feel as if he couldn’t breath after the impact. His whole back was a bloody mess by the time Damon turned him back around, from his shoulder blades down to his knees. 

The position was more comfortable with the chains, but Theon knew what it meant for him, and he felt sick. His stomach was twisting and turning, body not coping well with the pain. The boys showed their appreciation for the view of his bloodied, beaten back. He felt filthy, naked and in view of all the boys. His blood dripped down his calves and pooled at his feet, sticky and warm. Did they do this to Kyra, he wondered, did Damon whip her bloody before they killed her?

Maybe he did deserve it. His mind was blocking out the sounds of the boys’ laughter and Damon’s taunts, the crack of the whip and his own screaming at the pain. He could feel self loathing bubbling up in him, reaching up from his gut into his throat. He swallowed thickly, trying to push it back down. Maybe this was all karma for everything he’d ever done. Everyone he’d ever teased, every girl he’d ever rejected, every girl he fucked and then never spoke to again. His hatred for his dead brothers, his abandoning his sister when she needed help caring for their mother. His idiocy in not listening to Robb, not letting Robb warn him before he was in too deep. 

He was such an ass, he never cared enough for other people, never showed them how much they meant to him. He should’ve tried to have a better relationship with his father. He should have been more thankful for his sister caring for him, even if it was in her own weird and convoluted way. He should’ve shown the Starks more appreciation for everything they did. 

And Kyra, oh Kyra, how he hated himself for what happened to her. He didn’t know what he did, but he knew it was his fault, it had to be. He must’ve bored Ramsay, Ramsay must’ve been bored or annoyed with him, and that’s why they’d gone and gotten Kyra. They must’ve known who she was, Ramsay must have seen her in his phone, it only made sense. Kyra always dead, brutally murdered, and it was all his fault. 

”Don’t you black out on me, bitch.” Damon was close, too close, growling into Theon’s ear and pulling him out of his own thoughts. He was vaguely aware of a few new lashes on his stomach, dark and bloody, and he looked up at Damon. 

“Please, no more. I-I’m sorry- I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” Damon snorted. “What’re you sorry for?” He whipped him again, across the front of his thighs, and then along his pelvis, just barely missing his cock. 

“Shouldn’t- shouldn’t have left.” Theon looked over to Ramsay, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Rams, I- I love you,” He had to, he had to love Ramsay, Ramsay fed him and held him and hurt him, but not like this, never this badly. “R-Ramsay- Ramsay, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m so- I’m so sorry!” He sobbed loudly, letting his head fall forward, his whole body shaking violently. 

"No, you don't," Ramsay murmured, loud enough for them all to hear. "You love Robb Stark. I hear you at night, moaning and crying in your sleep, 'Robb, I'm so sorry', 'Robb, please save me'... Do you think I'm stupid?"

“No, no,” Theon sobbed, shaking his head weakly. “I love you, just you, I promise. I- I just love you, Rams! Not R-Robb!” 

Damon stepped to the side, raising a questioning eyebrow at Ramsay. 

"Who wants to shut his lying mouth?" Ramsay asked.

“I had my fun.” Damon grinned, coiling up his whip. Grunt was leaning against the wall, already having finished in his pants. Yellow Dick pushed Sour Alyn to the side and stepped forward. 

“I’d like a go at the bitch.” Yellow Dick eyed Theon up and down. 

Theon shook his head frantically now, looking pleadingly at Ramsay. “No, Ramsay, no- I’m- I’m not lying! Ramsay, please!” 

"Every night," he snapped, "I come down to check on you, and it's Stark's name on your lips, not mine! Go on, Yellow Dick."

“I don’t mean it! It’s just- it’s just nightmares where he- he takes me from you!” Theon lied, eyes so wide with fear. When Yellow Dick removed the chain from the hook on the ceiling, he collapsed onto his knees on the floor. He was quickly yanked back up to his feet as Yellow Dick attached the chain connected to the handcuffs to the pole, forcing him into an awkward half-crouching half-standing position. 

“He’s quite the liar, huh?” Damon purred, slowly licking the blood off his fingers. He glanced over to Skinner and winked. 

"I'm sick of it," Ramsay decided. Beside him, Skinner smirked and blew a teasing kiss at Damon. "Yellow Dick, shut him up."


	35. Chapter 35

Robb and Yara walked along quietly, approaching the Bolton house. The gray-black brick monstrosity loomed before them, framed by dark trees that stretched high, blocking out the sun. Robb looked up at it with distaste.

"This is the kind of house that Theon would laugh at and call ugly as we drive past," Robb remarked. "I can't imagine him wanting to stay here."

Yara wrinkled her nose, looking at the house in disgust. “It looks like it belongs to a fucking vampire.”

"It belongs to a psychopath... Close enough." They walked around the front of the house, peeking in the windows, but seeing not a hint of Theon. "Do you think he's even still here, or did Bolton move him somewhere?"

“No fucking clue.” Yara mumbled, lowering her voice. The bastard’s car was sitting in the driveway, and she was tempted to slash the tires. “Where else would he be?”

"Don't know," Robb muttered. He started heading off around the side of the house, pausing to peer hopefully through a larger window, as though he may see Theon prancing about just beyond the glass. Nothing... He moved further along, Yara several paces behind him, until he came to the backyard, and stopped at the fence. Across the yard, nine dogs lay huddled together, snoozing, underneath their lean-to.

Yara followed him, quietly bitching about Ramsay. She quickly shut up when they saw the dogs, but it was too late. The largest of the nine lifted her head, sniffing the air around her and quickly catching sight of the two of them behind the fence.

“Oh fuck.” Yara muttered as the dog threw back her head and howled, quickly rousing the other eight.

As all nine dogs began barking, Robb spun on his heel, grabbing Yara, and tried to run. He really didn't want to be caught trespassing... But the back door was banging open and Ramsay Bolton appeared on the back porch, looking wildly around to find what had set off his girls. He saw them, and stormed over with a twisted grin.

"The Young Wolf, and the.... Hm. I don't know what to call you," he said, looking thoughtfully at Yara.

“You can call me the bitch who’s going to kill you.” Yara hissed, fire in her eyes. If not for Robb’s hand on her arm, she’d have lunged forward, jumped the fence, and fought the bastard and all his dogs right then and there.

"No, that's too wordy. I'll call you Squid Bitch," he said with a grin. He leaned on the fence, studying them. "What brings you two here, trespassing on my property?"

“I’m here to get my little brother back, you bastard.” Yara’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Why?" he asked, cocking his head. The biggest dog, having bolted across the yard, came to halt beside him, and his hand fell to stroke her head. "He likes it here."

“Then let us see him.” Yara challenged.

"He doesn't want to see you," he said. "Didn't the officer tell you that?"

“He can tell us that his damn self.” Yara lunged forward, grabbing Ramsay by the throat and pulling him forward so he was pressed against the fence. “Bring Theon to see us.”

The dog growled thunderously, leaping up so her massive paws rested on top of the fence, long teeth bared, itching to tear into Yara. Ramsay leaned in, face inches from Yara's.

"No," he said slowly.

“Why the fuck not?” Yara hissed, squeezing his throat harder. “If he’s not hurt, why would you have to hide him?”

"I'm not hiding him," Ramsay wheezed. "He just doesn't want to see you. I'm not going to force him to do what he doesn't want to do." The dog at his side inched closer, eyes trained on Yara's hand around her master's throat.

“Let us see him or I swear to the Drowned God, I will kill you right where you stand.”

"Helicent," Ramsay said, calm as ever. Helicent tensed, muscles bunching, ready to pounce. "Rip." She lunged, paws scrabbling over the fence as she launched herself over it, jaws latching tight around Yara's forearm. Robb shouted, grabbed at her collar, and yanked hard, but the dog merely growled and sank her teeth in deeper.

Yara screamed, trying to yank her arm. She hit the dog, driving a fist down on her head. “Call her off, you bastard!” She shouted, hand still squeezing around Ramsay’s throat.

"As soon as you let go," Ramsay said, as Helicent snarled, foam at her lips. The dog let go for the briefest second, leaping up again and biting at Yara's exposed arm, her teeth sinking into the soft skin of her inner elbow.

Yara screamed louder and let go, cursing loudly as the dog finally let go. She stared at the wounds for a moment, streaming blood down her arm, and then lifted her gaze to glare at Ramsay. “Show me my brother. Now.”

Helicent paced around their feet, eyeing their every movement. "No," Ramsay said, crossing his arms. "You should have treated him better when he was still yours."

“Ours? He’s not a fucking possession!” Yara snarled, eyeing the dog a bit nervously. She was well aware that there were eight other dogs on the other side of the fence as well.

"Well," Ramsay said with a lazy grin, "that's a matter of opinion."

"The hell do you mean by that?" Robb snapped.

“You don’t fucking own Theon!” Yara wanted to hurt him, to wrap her hands around his throat and choke that smug look off his face. “Let us see him. Now.”

"You don't have much right to trespass on my property, make an attempt on my life, and then make unreasonable demands?" Ramsay put a hand to his chest in mock horror. "I could call the police right now, you know."

"Do it," Robb challenged, stepping towards him. "I'm sure they would be interested in why you won't let Theon come outside."

“Yeah, bastard. Fucking do it. Call them.” Yara agreed. “Let them take a nice fucking look around.”

Ramsay's jaw clenched. "He's not coming outside," he snapped. "I told you, he doesn't want to see you. Helicent, escort them away, will you? I'm done here." He turned around, walked away from them, and disappeared inside. Helicent herded the two of them back towards the front of the house, stalking at their heels.

Yara looked over at Robb. “He’s an idiot.” She stated coolly, stepping up onto the front porch. The front door was unlocked- it was the middle of the day and Ramsay was home, after all- and Yara walked right in. She expected to see Ramsay, but was instead greeted by a slim blonde boy staring at her from the kitchen table.

Damon stood up, grin widening as he eyed her up and down. “Oh, we’ve caught another squid, have we?”

Robb slammed the door in Helicent's stunned face, following after Yara, standing beside her and looking coldly at Damon. "Where is Theon?" he demanded, getting straight down to business.

Damon sat up on the edge of the table. “And we’ve caught a wolf, too. You’re the one who fucked Ramsay’s new pet, aren’t you? Robb, is it? Such a shame you let him slip through your fingers, he truly is such a pretty little thing.”

“He’s not a thing.” Yara snapped, glaring at him.

"He's nobody's pet," Robb spat. "We're taking him home-- where is he?"

“I don’t know, where is he?” Damon mocked, winking at Yara. “Feel free to check under my clothes, Squid Bitch. You can too, little wolf, if you want.”

"I'd rather not," Robb said, twisting his head around, searching. "Where is he? Where did Bolton go? We're not leaving without Theon."

“Not leaving without Theon, hm? You’ll be staying a while then.” Damon toyed with the coiled whip on his belt and Yara didn’t miss it. Her eyes narrowed.

“Where are you keeping my fucking brother?”

"Who says we're keeping him anywhere?" Ramsay purred, slinking into the room from the archway opposite them. He leaned against the wall, raising an eyebrow. There was a suspicious damp splotch across his shirt. "I keep telling you, he wants to be here."

"What?" Robb snapped. "No, he doesn't!"

“There’s no fucking way he wants to be here. Bring him to us, and I fucking guarantee he will run from you the second he has a chance.”

As if on cue, Theon came down the stairs and into the main hallway, eyes widening as he saw Robb and Yara. He gasped softly yet still loud enough to catch their attention, seeing the surprised looks on their faces before turning and bolting down the basement stairs. Robb and Yara. They were there, they were there for him. They would get hurt. They shouldn’t have been there, no, they shouldn’t have come for him. He hid himself in his room, wrapping himself in the one blanket Ramsay had left for him. He’d taken away the mattress, most of the blankets, and all the pillows after the whipping. Theon considered himself lucky to have the blanket. It was a bit stiff and dirty from blood and sweat and come, but it was better than nothing, and he was thankful.

Robb stared after him, eyes round with disbelief. "Wha- He... What?"

Snickering, Ramsay brushed past them, following Theon down the stairs.

“Told you so.” Damon tipped his head back and laughed as Yara looked over to Robb in shock.

“He- did he really just fucking run?” Her strong front was cracking and her hurt was obvious. Her baby brother, the last family she really had left, had seen her and ran.

Theon curled up at the base of the pole, having grown used to the cold hard ground beneath him. He was shaking, confused and upset. His wounds from the whipping were all scabbed over now, and Ramsay hadn’t really beaten him since. He was thankful. It didn’t hurt as much to lay down as it had just a few days before. He looked up at Ramsay as he entered the room, hoping he could sense that Theon was sorry, so sorry that they came, hoping Ramsay could see Theon’s silent plea not to hurt them.

"They trespassed," Ramsay told him, "looking for you. You know that? You're looking at me like you know that. You're looking at me like you're guilty of something." He drew closer, kneeling beside him. "Are you?"

Theon shook his head frantically. “N-no, I- I’m sorry- I didn’t know they’d do that.” Ramsay’s tone scared him, his words scared him, and the fear and anxiety mixing in his belly were making him nauseous. “I- Rams- I didn’t do anything, I promise.”

"They kept saying you weren't mine," Ramsay continued, face pinched with annoyance, "and that they wouldn't leave without you. That sister of yours even attacked Helicent. I won't tolerate that sort of behavior, Theon."

“I’m sorry!” Theon insisted. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry they did that, it’s- it’s all my fault, I’m so sorry.” He had tears in his eyes. Yara and Robb had come for him, and now they’d get hurt, and the dogs would get hurt, and Ramsay would get hurt- everyone would get hurt and it was all his fault.

"You know... If they don't end up leaving, say, because they're unable to... It would be your fault, right? If the girls happened to get loose, and maybe someone were to accidentally say 'rip'... well, that would be your fault, for luring them here. And do you know what happens to dogs that kill? Well, dogs that get caught killing?"

Theon whimpered, moving in closer to Ramsay, nuzzling his face against his chest. “I’m sorry,” He mumbled pitifully. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The girls were gonna kill Robb and Yara and then the girls would all get put down, and it would all be his fault.

"I know you are," Ramsay said softly, stroking his scarred back, "but you know I still have to punish you, right? We have to make sure this doesn't happen again."

Theon was trembling but he nodded, still mumbling out useless apologies as tears began dripping down his cheeks. It was his fault. He deserved to be punished. It was all his fault.

* * *

 

Yara left in a rage, storming out of the house, stomping all the way down the road to her truck and slamming the door once she got in. “The bastard! And my shitty fucking brother! He had us worried, and he’s fucking fine! That stupid cunt!” She glared down at the bites on her arm. “Wouldn’t even fucking come to see us.”

Robb climbed into the passenger side, brooding. "I still can't believe that he ran when he saw us," he said, shaking his head. "Asshole!" He glanced over at her, concerned. "How does your arm feel?"

“Feels like fucking hell. I’m gonna have to go to the fuckin’ doctor and get it all stitched up!” She slammed her fists against the steering wheel. “I can’t fucking believe him! I fucking can’t! All he had to do was tell us he was fine, but no, he ran and hid and now this is all we have to fucking show for it.”

"We just won't bother again," Robb said, grievously annoyed. His phone pinged in his pocket, and he drew it out to see a picture message from an unknown number. "What the...?" Just as he said that, Yara's phone beeped as well.

Yara swiped to open it, eyes widening and expression twisting with disgust at the picture on the screen. Theon, her baby brother, all spread out and naked with a stupid grin on his face, eyes shut and come soaking the sheets between his legs. She was about to leave the message and block the number when a text came through.

“What would your mother think of her little boy now?” She read aloud, slowly, before dropping her phone into the cup holder and taking a deep breath. She was angry, so angry, and it was obvious to see.

Robb had received the same picture, and he stared down at it in revulsion. "'It's like he never even had you'," he read. "It's Bolton. He's— he's messing with us. There's no way this is from just now. No way."

“My stupid slut brother.” Yara growled, turning to glare at Robb. “I’m going to drop you off at home, and then I’m going home, got it? If Theon doesn’t want to talk to me, fine. He can rot away with Ramsay fucking Bolton.”

"Yeah," Robb said, grimacing. "I can't believe this... Bullshit! He really..." He broke off with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s dead to me.” Her voice went cold as she turned on the truck and started to drive.


	36. Chapter 36

Days past, and it was on the 9th of March that Ramsay led Theon up the stairs again, taking him for a bath. There were abrasions on his wrists from the dragging cuffs, and his muscles were shaky and sore from being forced to stand, wrists chained to the hook on the ceiling.

Theon clung to Ramsay like his life depended on it, hugging his arm and nuzzling his face against his shoulder, mumbling apologies and thanks. He hadn’t slept the whole time he was attached to the hook- at least not very well- and he was so, so tired.

"You've been very good for me. Do you want a bed tonight?" Ramsay murmured into his ear. "A hot bath and a warm, soft bed?"

“P-please. Please.” Theon’s voice was soft and weak. A bed, how he’d love to sleep in a bed. He would’ve been content to sleep on the floor, if it meant he’d be taken down from the ceiling.

Ramsay took him into his arms, carrying him lovingly up the stairs, all the way to his own bathroom, where he had drawn a bath. The Grey Mists soap was long gone, but Ramsay's own soap rested on the side of the tub, and a sort of bubble bath had added to the water.

Theon was reluctant to let go of Ramsay, but he did as he was lowered into the bath. The hot water felt heavenly on his aching muscles and he let out a soft moan. The basement was so cold and uncomfortable, and his body was all so sore, but the bath was perfect.

"Is it nice?" Ramsay asked softly. He carded his fingers through Theon's tangled hair, smoothing it back from his face. "So pretty... I wish you would behave, so we could do this every night."

“I’m sorry.” Theon murmured as he looked at him, eyes still a pretty blue-green, but much less bright and shining than they’d been just a few weeks before. He leaned into Ramsay’s touch, sighing. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”

"I know you will," Ramsay said. "You want to be good, don't you? It's just hard for you to forget them... You're doing a good job. Just keep trying."

He nodded slowly in agreement, reaching a shaky hand out to hold Ramsay’s, craving the physical contact. He could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, warm and tired with the hot water soothing all his pains. “I-I’m trying, I promise.”

"I believe you," Ramsay said. He squeezed Theon's hand gently, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. "You're my good boy. Of course you're trying."

Theon hummed happily at the praise, a tiny smile playing on his lips. He was so tired. So tired. He knew he should’ve been washing himself off, but he couldn’t bring himself to adjust his position to do it. He just wanted to sleep, really, after having spent days on end forced to stand. The ugly red marks around both his wrists from where the cuffs had pulled and torn at the skin stung a little in the hot water, but it was okay.

Without a word, Ramsay busied himself with wetting a washcloth and soaping it up, lathering the soap across Theon's skin, rinsing clean days worth of sweat and dirt.

Theon whimpered a few times, when the cloth would run over a particularly sensitive bruise or a wound that hadn’t quite yet healed. “Thank you.” He murmured as Ramsay cleaned him, not uttering a single complaint out loud. He thought about the bed as the filth was wiped from him, about soft sheets and blankets and a warm body curled up against his own.

When Theon's skin was shiny and clean, Ramsay poured some shampoo into his hands, scrubbing through Theon's hair, and rinsing it clean. Theon was soft, relaxed and pliant as Ramsay handled him, conditioning his hair before draining the tub. He wrapped Theon in a fluffy towel and carried him up to bed.

Theon was so, so happy to see that Ramsay was carrying him upstairs and not down. That meant a real bed. Not just a mattress on the floor. It’d been so long since he’d slept in a real bed. He turned his head to softly kiss along Ramsay’s jaw, thankful for his boyfriend’s care.

Ramsay smiled, laying Theon down on the bed, and turned his head to capture Theon's lips. They sank into the plush mattress; Ramsay slipped a fluffed pillow under Theon's head, and watched him relax into it.

Theon happily curled up against him, eyes falling shut the second his head rested on to pillow. He murmured out another thanks, sighing happily when Ramsay pulled a blanket up over them.

"Go to sleep, Theon," he murmured. "You're exhausted."

Theon nodded slowly and let himself relax completely, savoring the warmth of the blankets and his boyfriend’s body. It only took him a few minutes before he was fully asleep, breathing slow and soft.

Ramsay watched as Theon fell into unconscious, body softening and falling limp. A smirk stole over his lips; he was almost there, he could tell. He was almost his.

He turned onto his back, feeling Theon cuddle unknowingly up against him, and stared up at the ceiling. He was impatient waiting, but he knew the reward would be sweet. It would almost be boring, he thought, when he was broken, but it was for the better. Broken toys lasted longer.

* * *

 

Theon was confused when he woke up, surprised when light streamed in the windows and he was warm and curled up in bed. He was surprised to wake up in his boyfriend’s arms, without a single new wound on his body. He quickly remembered the night before, how Ramsay had carried and bathed him and brought him to bed. He scooted around a little, adjusting himself so he could comfortably reach to place tiny kisses up Ramsay’s neck and then along his jaw. Something in him told him he was being stupid, to get up and run, but he knew it was better to stay in bed with Ramsay. Ramsay would take care of him. No one outside of that house would, no one else cared, not like Ramsay.

"Good morning," Ramsay murmured sleepily, tilting his head into the kisses. "Do you feel better now that you've had some sleep?"

“Mhm, thank you, Rams.” Theon gave him a peck on the lips before laying his head back on the pillow, admiring his boyfriend’s sleepy expression.

Ramsay's eyes blinked open, focusing slowly on Theon's face. The alarm clock on the bedside table behind him read 6:03AM, and beside the clock lay a curved flaying knife with an ornate black handle.

Theon’s gaze flickered over to the knife, and suddenly he could feel all the forgotten pains all over his body from the past month or so. Every scar itched, every muscle ached, every scab and bruise throbbed with pain. He was frozen, staring with wide eyes at the knife. He could just reach over and grab it, slit Ramsay’s throat and end it right there. He snapped out of it just seconds later, looking back over to Ramsay. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He had nowhere else to go. He just prayed that Ramsay hadn’t noticed him looking at the knife.

Ramsay had, of course, noticed Theon's gaze skim back, catch on the blade, and dart to his own throat. Pride swelled in his chest as Theon looked back at him, slow, loyal and trusting, letting himself sink deeper into Ramsay's possession.

"Good boy," he praised, quiet yet resolute.

Theon’s heart fluttered and he moved forward to nuzzle his face against the nape of Ramsay’s neck, humming softly to indicate he’d heard. Good. He’d made the right choice. Ramsay was proud of him, he’d done good and Ramsay was proud and he wouldn’t be hurt.

"Do you want a reward?" Ramsay kissed his head, smelling the sweet scent of his clean boy, wearing his soap, naked and soft and against him.

“Reward?” Theon murmured, lips moving against Ramsay’s skin, just loud enough to hear.

"I think you deserve one," he said, hand sliding up Theon's side, caressing the skin of his hip.

“Oh,” Theon’s voice was soft, his breath hot. “Y-yes, okay, if you think so- if that’s okay...” He hoped it wasn’t a trick, that Ramsay wasn’t going to hurt him instead.

Ramsay grinned, sliding down Theon's body, disappearing under the sheets. His hands pushed Theon's thighs apart, mindful of the old, healing welts from the whipping. Theon's cock was flaccid, and his pubic hair tickled his nose as Ramsay leaned in, his lips ghosting up the shaft.

Theon gasped softly, letting his head fall back against the pillow and his eyes flutter shut. Ramsay was beneath the sheets, he couldn’t see him anyway. He could feel Ramsay’s breath, hot as it blew over his cock, his mouth so close. It had been a long while since Theon had felt any sort of sexual pleasure. Ramsay had taken him many times, yes, but none of those times had any focus on Theon’s pleasure. Most of those times caused him pain. Now, though, he could feel his cock getting hard from just thinking about his boyfriend’s lips around his cock.

So eager, Ramsay thought in amusement. Already hard, and he hadn't even started yet. He wrapped one hand around the hardening length, the other gently squeezing his thigh, and he kissed the tip of Theon's cock.

Theon whimpered, cock twitching at the feeling of Ramsay’s lips. “O-oh- Rams...” The gentle touches were making his heart and cock swell, and while there was still fear in his mind, he pushed it back. He was still afraid that it would suddenly go bad, it would be a trick, that he’d be punished for something he didn’t realize he’d done wrong. He quickly pushed the thoughts away again.

He soon melted into the pleasure, discovering Ramsay had no intent to hurt him, not now. His lips were around his cock, his tongue moving deftly along its length, and it was pure bliss. He didn’t last very long, having gone a long while without an orgasm, and when he finished, it was intense. His hips bucked even when he tried to keep them down, and Ramsay had caught every drop in his mouth.

When Theon was coming down from his orgasm, Ramsay moved up and kissed him, letting Theon’s come slide into his mouth. Theon was shocked, a bit confused and repulsed, but he swallowed without hesitation and continued kissing Ramsay. He felt soft and warm and blissful, like nothing had ever gone wrong.

****

* * *

 

Ramsay had never felt so domestic. It was fun. Theon was sat at the table, looking confused and unsure, as though he shouldn't be there, with a glass of orange juice sitting in front of him. Ramsay stood at the stove, frying bacon, while homemade cinnamon buns baked in the oven.

Theon played with the strings on his pants- or, rather, Ramsay’s pants- and glanced over at his boyfriend. He felt weirdly guilty for what had happened just a little while before, for letting Ramsay suck his cock. It felt wrong. After all the pain and hurt and punishment, he felt sick with himself for enjoying something so much. He didn’t deserve it. He was lucky he was even out of the basement, and now Ramsay was spoiling him, and it made him unreasonably nervous.

“U-um- Rams?” Theon shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yes, babe?" Ramsay hummed, placing the last of the bacon on paper towels to cool. He turned around to face him, leaning on the island counter and admiring the sight of his obedient boyfriend, half-naked and shy.

“I- why are-“ He stumbled over his words, trying to figure out what to say. “I mean, thank you, but why, um, why are you being so nice to me?” He looked down at his lap where the strings were wrapped around his fingers.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ramsay asked, tilting his head, playing confused. "You're being a good boy, aren't you? There's nothing to punish you for."

“I just... you’re spoiling me.” Theon mumbled. It was normal for Ramsay to just leave him collared in the basement, that wasn’t punishment, it was just how it was. It was odd for Ramsay to be making him breakfast, sucking his cock, letting him sleep in his bed. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it. He was good, yes, but he hadn’t done anything special...

"Spoiling you?" Ramsay grinned internally, but presented a thoughtful expression. "Well, I suppose, but why not? You deserve a little bit of spoiling, when you're this quiet and well-behaved." He transferred the bacon to a serving plate and carried it over to him, setting the plate in front of him and patting his hair.

Theon looked up at him, eyes wide and expressive, like a puppy hoping for praise from its master. “I-I-“ He glanced down at the food and then back at Ramsay. “Thank you. Thank you, Rams.”

Ramsay planted a kiss on top of his head, ruffling his hair before heading back to pull the cinnamon buns out of the oven. As he set about icing them liberally, he hummed a song he knew Theon liked, and he whisked the plate over to the table, pulling up the chair beside Theon and looking over at him sweetly.

"Want one?"

“They look amazing.” Theon looked at Ramsay and then down at the cinnamon buns, hesitation a moment before taking one and biting into it. It was so good he almost moaned, hot and sticky and sweet. It was the best thing he’d tasted in a while, and he found himself finishing it off and starting another rather quickly, with little regard for the fact that his stomach couldn’t handle eating too much.

"Slow down," Ramsay warned, though he watched, pleased, as Theon scarfed them down. "I don't want you getting sick, okay? Drink your juice, too, and I'll get you some water after."

Theon finished off the second one before taking a few sips of orange juice, looking fondly over to Ramsay. Ramsay was spoiling him, treating him so well... he was so lucky. The room smelled of bacon and cinnamon and his heart fluttered in his chest. “Rams,” He smiled a tiny bit, no trace of his old crooked, cocky grin. “Thank you. I-I love you.”

"I know you do," he said. "I love you too." He took a bun for himself, savoring the sweetness, something that he hardly indulged in. Theon sure was easy to please, he thought. Twenty minutes in the kitchen and some flowery, meaningless words, and he was putty.

Theon was practically glowing, he felt so happy. It was different than how it used to be, however. The bright eyes and wide, lopsided grin he’d always had when with Robb were gone. It was as if the glimmer in his eyes had been beaten out of him along with his resistance, as if each hit had erased a part of his smile. He looked a bit sad, now, even when he felt so happy. It had only taken a few weeks to kill his spirit, just a few long weeks in the dark, just a couple of beatings and rapes and punishments. Glowing now was just that small, nervous smile and wide eyes. The happiness was really only the absence of terror and hurt and confusion, but Ramsay had a sharp tongue and sharp knives, and he’d been able to manipulate Theon into thinking that it was the happiest he’d be.

Theon was so, so, so thankful for being allowed out of the basement, for being bathed and allowed in a bed, for being allowed to eat and drink and not be chained down. He was starting not to see what was so wrong with that. He was starting to understand.


	37. Chapter 37

He was back in the basement. 

Just a few days ago, Ramsay had brought him upstairs, bathed and fed him, letting him sleep in his bed. It hadn’t lasted, though, and he’d been put back downstairs by the end of that night. He didn’t mind it, not really. Ramsay had taken away the dirty blanket and given him a new one- one that was soft and clean and smelled of Ramsay. He only had the collar on, because Ramsay was kind and loved him and didn’t want him to have sore ankles and wrists. He’d been so gentle with Theon lately, only beating him for good reason, and when he fucked him, he was so much gentler. 

He was partly asleep when Ramsay came down, but he looked up at him and smiled a tiny bit. “Hi, Rams.” He murmured, sitting up. 

"Good morning," he said, reaching down to unlatch the collar. "How did you sleep, Theon?" He grabbed his hand and pulled Theon up to stand, pulling his body against his own.

Theon loosely wrapped his arms around Ramsay, resting his head on his shoulder. “Good. Missed you.” 

"Would you like to come upstairs?" Ramsay asked, already leading him from the room.

Theon nodded, clinging to Ramsay’s side as they headed up the stairs. He was still a bit achy- sleeping on the floor wasn’t great for comfort- but he could walk just fine. 

"What do you want to do today?" Ramsay asked, taking Theon's hand. "We can watch TV, if you'd like? Or play outside with the dogs—it's getting warm out."

“The dog-“ Theon cut off. The last time he’d seen the dogs was when he was whipped and Kyra had just sat and watched. Before that, she’d been covered in her namesake’s blood and sniffing at him. What he really wanted was his Queenie, his sweet little pup, her fur soft and light and her constant excitement. His heart twisted painfully at the though and he tightened his grip on Ramsay’s hand. He went silent. 

"The dogs?" Ramsay asked. "Okay. Let's get you cleaned up, and we'll go see them."

He let Theon take a shower, and dressed him in a comfortable t-shirt and pants.

The clothes were still a bit big on him but they fit well enough, and they smelled like his boyfriend, like cinnamon and fresh pine. It was comforting and warm, and Theon didn’t mind at all that they weren’t his size. “I just- will they attack me?” 

"Of course not," Ramsay said with a shake of his head. "You're good, just like them." He brought Theon into the yard, and the dogs immediately ran up to say hello, their whole bodies shaking with the force of their wagging tails.

Theon’s anxieties quickly melted away when Willow nuzzled her face into his hand. She looked the most different out of all the girls, sad eyes and a longer muzzle with a bit of an underbite. She was sweet and normally the most mellow of the nine, he hadn’t spent a lot of time with her. He knelt down on the porch, bursting out laughing when Willow licked his face. He was happy to pet the girls, but ignored Helicent and Kyra. They both scared him a bit. Helicent didn’t seem too fond of him, either, but Kyra kept trying to get close to him, to push in front of the other girls. She whined at him but he refused to look at her, focusing on Willow and Maude instead. 

Ramsay watched, disappointed, as Kyra threw a fit, and Theon ignored her. She whined louder and louder, tail no longer wagging but down, limp at her legs. She looked furiously at him, barking shortly, before she threw herself down in the grass, grumbling, laying her head on her paws and watching jealously. Ramsay knelt beside her, stroking her silky fur. 

"You're a good girl," he assured her. "You didn't do anything wrong." He could have been amused, seeing how affected Theon was by the knowledge of what she had done—didn't he realize that they all had?—but he didn't like seeing his girls upset.

Guilt pooled in his stomach as he watched Kyra. But Kyra had killed one of his oldest friends. Kyra had sat around and watched while Damon whipped him until his body was covered in bloody welts, she’d done nothing as he sobbed and screamed. She’d defended him against Helicent, but obviously Ramsay had trained that out of her. The guilt grew, dark and heavy and overwhelming, until he was staring blankly forward and tears were welling in his eyes. 

He was bad. Ramsay looked unhappy, and Kyra was sad, and it was all his fault. His Kyra was dead, and that was his fault, too. It was his fault that pup Kyra had killed human Kyra. He had no right to be upset with her, not when it was his fault. The girls were all nosing at him now, whining and trying to get pats, but he couldn’t handle it. 

“Drowned God, I can’t, I can’t...” Theon mumbled, snapping out of it and stumbling to his feet. He looked at the girls, soft and sweet and happy, but all he could see was the mental image of blood matted in their fur, human flesh between their teeth. His scars from Helicent’s bites ached as if they were new. Before Ramsay could say anything, he turned and sprinted inside. 

"Theon!" Ramsay shouted. The dogs scattered, confused, to the other side of the yard; Ramsay stormed inside after Theon, the door banging off the wall and clattering shut. "Theon!" he called again, sharp and angry. "What happened? You were being so good!"

Theon was horrified, and Ramsay’s yelling didn’t help. He bolted down into his room in the basement, curling up in one of the dark corners and hugging his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes tight but tears still found a way to creep out. Now Ramsay was really mad at him, and it was all his fault, and he was so bad... he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stay out with the dogs, not when he was thinking about what they’d done. 

Ramsay went after him, wondering incredulously if Theon really thought that he could just hide. If he did, he was doing a piss poor job of it; his pet was huddled in the corner, blanket dragged halfway across the room, clutching a corner of it to his chest, pinned under his knees. Ramsay loomed over him, scowling.

"What was that all about?" he snapped. "Why did you run from them?"

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Theon mumbled pathetically, refusing to look up at him. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. I just- Ramsay...” he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to tell Ramsay he got scared of the girls and risk insulting him, and saying he saw Ramsay looking annoyed with him and panicked wouldn’t go well either. 

"Why are you scared of them?" Ramsay asked softly, "They aren't any different than the last time you saw them... Or was it me you were running from?"

Theon kept his eyes tightly shut. “They- last time I saw them, they- Kyra-“ He groaned, not wanting to think about the pup with blood all over her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

"Kyra got her name, yes..." he said slowly. "They all go through the same training, you know. Willow, that one you were petting? Her namesake was a young girl from back home in Weeping Water... Don't worry, she didn't have any family to come looking for her, we made sure of that. Just a homeless girl Grunt found, and we were all bored, of course. Willow was my newest rescue pup, and she got her name." He smiled fondly at the memory. "It's a rite of passage for them, Theon. You'll have one too, though not quite the same."

“No, no...” He was trembling, tears dripping down his cheeks. Another innocent girl. Someone who’d done nothing wrong. He felt sick, so sick. “I- I try to be good, I’m trying, but I can’t!” Was Ramsay intending to make him kill someone? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wanted to make Ramsay happy but if he wanted that... it was too much. 

"You can't?" Ramsay echoed, face twisting. Theon was proving to be more difficult than he had ever expected-- was it still worth keeping him around? None of his other toys had ever made him this frustrated. "What do you mean, you can't? You've been doing so well recently... I was going to let you upstairs today."

“I can’t hurt anyone, Rams, I-“ Theon looked at his boyfriend and instantly went silent, heart dropping at the sight of his displeased expression. He’d disappointed him. His shaking grew worse as fear swirled in his gut. “I can’t, I can’t.” 

"I have good news for you, then." Ramsay pulled him up into a sitting position, face stony. "You won't have to. Yours is different from theirs... You already have a name, after all."

Ramsay’s face did nothing to quell his fears, and Theon would like nothing more than to hide under his blanket in the corner and disappear. He clutched the corner of it tightly in his fist, playing with it to keep his hands busy. His heart ached. He’d been good... Ramsay said he’d been doing good, and now he messed it all up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming out. He’d cried a lot in the past few weeks. He felt stupid and weak, it was no wonder Ramsay was so disappointed in him. Really, he was lucky Ramsay was so patient. Theon knew he was a pain. Sometimes he got too mouthy, or was too stupid, and then Ramsay would have to punish him and it felt so terrible to see his master disappointed in him. 

Theon’s train of thought stopped. His master? That’s what the boys always called Ramsay in regard to Theon. His master. As if he were some sort of pet, or object- he supposed he was. Ramsay took care of him, Ramsay decided when he’d eat and where he’d sleep and what he’d wear. Master... was that what Ramsay was? Was that- did Ramsay want him to call him that? 

‘They respected you before, when you were with their master. Now you're a bitch.’ Skinner had said. Then there was Damon, who’d asked, ‘Didn’t your master teach you not to say no by now?’ Master, master, master. He mouthed the word without realizing it, confused and scared and upset. 

When he spoke, his voice was softer, weaker, and his wide and teary eyes stared pleadingly into Ramsay’s cold and icy ones. “M-master...” He wanted to be good, he did, he was trying so hard and kept fucking it all up. He was scared, terrified, anticipating getting hit. “M-Master, I’m sorry...”

Ramsay stiffened, a grin spreading across his face. Master? "Master can forgive you," he said, "but only this once. Don't make me upset again, okay?"

Theon relaxed a tiny bit. He forgave him. Ramsay- his master- he forgave him. “Thank- Thank you. Thank you.” He wanted to hug him, to kiss him, so thankful that he wouldn’t be getting hurt, but he stayed sitting on the floor. 

"Come upstairs, Theon. You can watch TV while I make lunch." Ramsay took his hand and forced him to stand, Theon's still maintaining a tight grip on the blanket.

Theon clutched his hand tightly, leaning against him as they went upstairs. “I love you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on Ramsay’s shoulder. 

"I know you do," Ramsay said, smiling to himself. "You are a good boy, you just need a little bit of work still."

“I’m sorry I was bad.” Theon tilted his head, softly kissing along Ramsay’s neck. 

"I'll forgive you," Ramsay said, bringing him into the living room. "I'm going to let the girls in now."

“Don’t go.” Theon pleaded, holding his hand tighter. 

"I'll be right back," Ramsay said, slipping his hand out of Theon's grasp. He patted him on the head and walked off. The back door opened and shut, and in came the patter of paws on hardwood. Ramsay returned a moment later.

"See?"

Theon sat down and eyed the dogs nervously as they walked in, but he looked up at Ramsay then back down and reached out a hand to pet them. Kyra, having apparently forgiven him for ignoring her in the yard, jumped up on the couch next to him and started sniffing at his clothes. He scratched behind her ears, and she tried to lick his hand, and he couldn’t be mad at her when she was staring at him with those big, golden puppy dog eyes. “Hi, girly,” He smiled a little at her, “I’m sorry about before.”

"She's a good girl," Ramsay said, leaning over them. "She always does what I ask her to do... Try and be nice to her, okay?" He handed Theon the television remote, and began to walk off towards the kitchen. "I'm going to make lunch... Be good while I'm gone, okay?"

Theon nodded, turning on the television but leaving it muted and paying it no attention, setting the remote down on the coffee table. If he had paid attention, he’d see the reporters on the news talking about Ned Stark, and how his killer was discovered and on the run. His attention focused on Kyra instead, who was wiggling her way onto his lap and laying there, as if she were ten pounds instead of at least seventy. 

Ramsay returned in ten minutes with two grilled cheese sandwiches and a handful of pretzels on a plate for Theon. "I want to try something," he said, "but it depends on you. How well do you think you can behave, Theon?"

He looked curiously up at Ramsay, gently stroking Kyra’s soft fur. “I can be good.” He promised. “What is it?” 

"How would you like to live up here? Out of your basement?" Ramsay handed him the plate and sat on the couch beside him. He watched with inner amusement as shock dawned on Theon's face.

“I-I- Rams...” Theon’s heart was pounding. Was it a trick? He could be good, he could, he could be so good and make Ramsay so happy and maybe Ramsay would let him sleep in his bed... “I’d like it- I’d love that- I mean, if it’s okay, if you think it’s okay, I can be good!” 

"'Master'," Ramsay reminded him, gently chiding. "Remember?"

Oh, Theon thought, so that was going to be a permanent thing now. He couldn’t find it in himself to really mind. “Master, sorry, sorry.” He corrected, eyes wide and bright- as bright as they ever were nowadays, which still wasn’t even near how brightly his eyes lit up back when he was happy and laughing with Robb. “I can be good, master, I promise.” 

"I know you will," Ramsay said, looking proudly at him like one might look upon a dog that had learned a particularly difficult trick. "Eat your lunch, okay?" He turned to the television, and the scene was almost too domestic for him to stomach. He was so sick of playing nice; he had told Stark that just over a month ago now... He wondered if Theon knew that he had been living with him for a month already. Already, he scoffed in his mind, how laughable. This pet was impossible-- a month to break him! A month to train him, and he still had a little ways to go.

"What are you watching, anyways? The news?" He clicked the sound up, and the newscaster was detailing the police report on Ilyn Payne, Ned Stark's murderer, and the manhunt to find him. "Oh, they found the wolf-slayer? Disappointing... Father and I were hoping he'd pick off the rest of them as well."

Theon tensed, looking down at Kyra to hide the horrified look on his face. “The others- most of them- they’re just children.” He said softly, thinking of baby Rickon, with all his excitement. He thought of Bran, so smart and quiet, and Arya, who had more spirit in her than anyone he’d ever met. He thought of Sansa, only sixteen, still just a girl, and how she’d smiled when they’d gone shopping together and she’d picked out rings for her and Joffrey. 

"What of it?" Ramsay scoffed again, this time aloud. "A pup grows up into a wolf, doesn't it? Pick them all off, before they're full-grown. Hopefully, Payne can get to it before the police catch him."

Theon swallowed hard and kept silent, very focused on stroking the smooth fur of Kyra’s head. 

"That Snow bastard, too," Ramsay added thoughtfully. "He's as much of a wolf as the rest of them... Heh! The mutts, too! Maybe Payne will cut all their heads off-- interesting puzzle that would make, wouldn't it?" He looked gleefully over at Theon. "Sew on the mismatched heads! Stark, with that mutt's head on his shoulders! The Young Wolf, indeed!" He mock howled, and fell back into the couch cushion, laughing raucously.

“My puppy lives with them.” Theon murmured, as if that were the only thing he was worried about. When Ramsay scared him he was obedient, when Ramsay was gentle he was obedient, but this was just mean. He wasn’t being scary nor kind, he was mocking and rude and Theon’s gut twisted with disgust. He couldn’t make Ramsay mad, though, not now, not when Ramsay was going to let him out of the basement. 

"Payne will spare her, I'm sure," Ramsay said with a shrug. "She isn't a wolf, is she? But, if it makes you feel better, I'll stop by and get her for you, while the Starks are occupied."

Now he was scared. 

The way Ramsay spoke of it made it sound as if it were certain that the Starks would be killed. He knew it was untrue, it couldn’t be true, but it scared him all the same. And he didn’t want Queenie there with him and Ramsay, as much as he missed her. The girls were too big, and Ramsay would use Queenie against him if he stepped out of line. “N-no, that’s okay, I’m sure she’ll be fine...” 

"You're sure?" Ramsay looked closely at him, maybe a little sharply and suspiciously, but then merely shrugged again. "Okay. She can stay there."

Theon was tense for the rest of the day, a bit jumpy, startling at every unexpected noise as if Ilyn Payne were walking up to him with the corpses of the Starks. He felt sick, and couldn’t eat much of dinner that night. He was allowed to sleep in Ramsay’s bed, but he stayed up almost all night. His heart tugged at his chest. 

This wasn’t home. He missed home.


	38. Chapter 38

Having now seen Theon, seen the proof that he was okay, Robb couldn't help but grow angry at the fact that in the following days, the following week, he still did not show up in school. Was he really avoiding him? Had he really taken to hiding at Bolton's house just so he didn't have to see him? Even Bolton himself was absent, and Robb was left sitting with Jon and Ygritte, alone in company.

"Are you going to eat, or are you just going to sulk around and glare at it and pretend it's Theon?" Ygritte asked wryly. Robb glanced sharply over at her, and then back down at his sandwich.

"I'm not sulking," Robb denied, clearly sulking.

Jon sighed, swallowing his mouthful of whatever weird meat it was the cafeteria was serving that day. “Listen Robb, I know it’s hard, I know he was your best friend, but Greyjoy has always been a cunt.” That earned him a bit of a dirty look from Ygritte, who’d quite liked Theon. “It’s not worth being so upset over.”

"You didn't see him!" Robb snapped. "He-- Yara and I were there, right there, and he looked at us and ran! What kind of shit friend does that? We were worried sick about him! And- and that picture!"

“Ugh.” Jon groaned. Robb had shown him the picture. It wasn’t like Jon hadn’t seen Theon nude before, but in the photo’s context, it was the opposite of arousing. “Yeah, that was fucking gross.”

"Rubbing that in our faces... And sending it to his sister! Bolton ruined him," Robb said accusingly. "Our Theon would never... He wouldn't do that."

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Theon wouldn’t send nudes? Really, Robb? Do you remember when he sent a picture of his cock to the senior year group chat?”

"But not to his sister!" Robb retorted.

At the same time, Ygritte said, "He did what now?"

“He sent a picture of his cock to the group chat for our senior class.” Jon said with a sigh. “Do you not remember? Aren’t you in that chat?”

"I don't check it," she said, shrugging. "I don't like 90% of the people in it, so..."

"You're not missing much," Robb assured her. "But, Jon, he wouldn't... Not after running from us. Why would he?"

“To spite you. Revenge for...” Jon glanced at Ygritte. “For what happened. To rub it in.”

"That's... We had talked about that. He knows why..." Robb trailed off, looking pained. "I shouldn't have assumed he forgave me."

“I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with him, Robb. It seems weird, but like you said, he saw you and ran. And when the cops went, he was fine. It all points to Theon wanting to be there.” He placed a hand on Robb’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you- I know he was your best friend.”

"But he can't!" Robb punched the table in his burst of rage, clattering the trays and knocking Ygritte's Sprite over—thankfully, she hadn't opened it. People at the surrounding tables glanced over, silently judging. "He can't," Robb repeated, quieter this time. "He... He was scared. He was hurt, and upset, and he was going to leave him. Bolton did something to him, I know he did." Even as he said it, he bore an expression that spoke volumes more of his own inner denial, and he spoke the words like he was trying to convince them, convince himself.

“I know it’s hard, Robb, but you... you have to accept that Theon has decided to be with Bolton instead.” Jon looked sympathetic, even a bit hurt himself. Theon was his friend too, even if they didn’t act like it. Robb, though, Robb loved him, much more than just a friend. He still had Jeyne, but anyone with common sense could tell he didn’t love her. She wasn’t there that day, out sick, and Jon was grateful for her absence.

Robb looked away, furious yet despondent at the same time. Ygritte gave him a sympathetic look, but she didn't get it. How could she? She had Jon. It wasn't like Jon was running off and moving in with a psychopathic outcast. No, that was Robb's problem alone. Hell, he loved him, and yes, he had screwed that up, but to go so far as to move out?

After the picture, though it was Bolton who had sent it, Theon had ceased all contact with Robb. He had even blocked him on RavenOnline, something that Theon had always jokingly threatened, with how many dog videos Robb tagged him in, but he never actually had... He didn't know what to think about it. No— he did, of course he did, but he didn't want to believe that Theon had abandoned him after eleven years of being his best friend. It didn't make sense, no matter which way he looked at it. Theon had simply abandoned him, no matter how harsh Robb though that was, no matter how hard Robb was taking it, no matter how difficult it was for him to comprehend. He was gone.

Jon pulled Robb into a half-hug, wrapping his arm over his shoulders. “I’m really sorry, Robb. Theon and I didn’t get along all the time-“ Ygritte snorted, and he gave her a look. “He and I didn’t always get along, but I’d never expect this of him.”

"I don't care what you say, this just doesn't strike me as something that Theon would do." Robb shook his head. "Okay, the rash decisions? Skipping school everyday? Sure. And it's not like he's too fond of Yara or I right now, but to outright run from us? He has too much pride for that."

“Maybe it just- I don’t know.” Jon looked sadly at his half-brother. “Maybe it’s just temporary, or it could’ve been because Yara was with you. You know last time he saw her, they...” He wasn’t sure if Robb knew that Theon had told him about Alannys. Yara had slapped Theon. “Theon definitely wouldn’t want to deal with Yara being angry about the whole Ramsay situation.”

"Yeah, maybe," Robb said doubtfully. Then, trying to inject some humor into the situation and lighten the mood, he said, "Or Bolton could be keeping him prisoner in his basement."

Jon snorted. “Oh gods, Robb, that’s not funny.” But he laughed anyway, and hoped that wasn’t the case. “It’s his choice to be there. It’s not like he hasn’t had the chance to leave.”

"You said it first, remember? But, you're right. He's had so many chances," Robb said, thinking back on his and Yara's visit, and Officer Tarth, and any other random day when Ramsay was here and Theon wasn't.

“I know it sucks, Robb, I know it really sucks, but it’s best to just accept it. Theon’s with Bolton, at least for now, until he decides he’s an ass. Or maybe they’re a perfect match, they’re both shitheads.” Jon joked.

"Theon deserves better," Robb denied. "He knows he deserves better. I just don't understand why he... Whatever. It doesn't matter."

“It doesn’t. And you have Jeyne. I know you don’t...” He paused, looking to Ygritte again, but he tested her. He lowered his voice. “I know you don’t love her, okay? Not like Theon, at least, but... just focus on her a bit, you know? It could help.”

"I know," Robb said, looking immensely guilty. He hadn't been focusing on Jeyne, not at all, and sometimes he even forgot about her in his desperation over the Theon situation. He suspected she knew, and the beautiful soul she was, she was patient with him. He wished he could love her as something more, but as hard as he tried, she was only a friend to him. Truth be told, he had stopped trying a while ago.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Jon reassured him. “He’s not worth worrying about. Not now. He made his choice.”

"Yeah," Robb said reluctantly. "I guess you're right." Finally, he picked up his sandwich and took a bite, but it was like eating dirt, dry and tasteless.

Jon smiled sadly at his half brother before turning to listen to Ygritte.

* * *

 

Sansa came home late, having hung out with Jeyne Poole after school. Jeyne was her best friend and they hadn’t hung out much often, not since her father died. She’d been hanging out with Margery a lot, too. It was refreshing to hang out Jeyne, but her worries returned when she got home. She had noticed Theon’s absence in the past few weeks, and noticed how off Robb was acting. She went to his room after dropping her stuff in hers, knocking softly on the door.

"Come in," came the tired response, and the door opened, Sansa peeking inside. Robb was sat on the floor, leaning back against his bed, looking utterly defeated. "Hey, Sansa."

“Can we talk? I’m worried about you. And Theon.” Her voice was soft and her eyes full of concern as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

"There's no point to worrying," Robb said. "It won't do anything. Theon's made his decision." He let her sit beside him anyhow.

“I got used to him being here.” She turned her head to look at him. “And Queenie, she’s so sad. She just sleeps all the time.”

"Because he abandoned her, too," Robb snapped. "Selfish bastard. Seeing her everyday almost makes me wish he hadn't left of his own accord."

Sansa looked at him sadly. “She barely eats, and she’ll just lay outside his room and sleep, as if he’ll walk out at any moment. It breaks my heart.”

"Lady is always with her, too," Robb remarked. "They've become almost inseparable. At least she has Lady, I guess, if she doesn't have Theon. And she has you, too. You take good care of her."

“She’s just so sad, Robb. And- you may have noticed- but the others are affected by it too. Rickon doesn’t understand at all, he thought Theon was staying permanently, he was so excited. Arya and Bran, too, they may not show it but... we’re all affected.”

"I know..." Robb murmured. He had been keeping mostly to himself, alone in his room with Grey Wind, or out with Jon, but he had noticed the downcast faces whenever he was home. "He was supposed to be staying, I don't... Sansa, I don't get why he did this."

“I don’t either. It just- it really sucks. I’m mad at him.” Sansa huffed, though she didn’t really sound mad. “I miss him.” She had such a good time when they’d last hung out, shopping together. She leaned against Robb and sighed.

It was silent for a moment, and then, softly, Sansa spoke again. “I hope he comes back.”


	39. Chapter 39

Theon’s hands were shaking so badly that he feared he’d drop his phone right in the middle of the crowded dance floor. He was frantically typing, deleting and then typing again, trying to find the right words to say. He shouldn’t have been there and he knew it. He should have been home. He shouldn’t have ran off. He felt sick staring down at the messages, warm bodies bumping into his, music blaring over the speakers, and he felt nothing but numb terror. 

‘Where the fuck are you?’ The first message read. Countless more followed. ‘Theon, you better not have run off.’ and ‘I will find you.’ Anger turned to fear further down, the longer Theon took to reply. ‘Are you hurt?’ and then ‘Theon, are you okay?’ 

He swallowed hard, deleting the words he’d typed yet again and turning off his phone. He tucked it away into his pocket and turned to make his way to the bar, ordering another drink and hoping it would let him forget the weight of his phone in his pocket and the weight in his chest that some would call a heart.

He didn’t even know what had triggered him to run off, or why to this specific club. Maybe he was hoping he’d run into one of the Starks. He hadn’t been at their house for a while, for at least a month. Ramsay wouldn’t let him. Ramsay had just recently started trusting him enough to leave him home without restraints. He hadn’t been chained down in four or five whole days, and he knew he just broke that trust. He had stolen his phone back, digging through Ramsay’s dresser to find it. He’d had so many texts he didn’t recognize and so many missed calls, but he ignored them, only opening the messages from Ramsay. And now his phone was off and stuffed away. 

His fake ID was doing him well as he got another drink, hoping more alcohol would numb the bruises from the metal collar he always wore around his neck, numb the bruises from where Ramsay beat him all over his body. Luckily, Ramsay never flayed him like he threatened to. He was so kind, he just cared about Theon, just wanted to keep him safe from anything that might hurt him-

Theon shook his head and took a large swig of his drink, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. Fuck, Ramsay had him brainwashed, whipped like a worthless little mutt. He thought of what everyone at school would think of him now and managed to crack a grin. They would be so smug to see the arrogant Theon Greyjoy knocked down a peg. 

He couldn’t ignore his thoughts for long and pulled out his phone again two drinks later, turning it on. There were more texts from Ramsay, threats and worried questions and angry promises. He ignored them, going to his contacts and scrolling down to ‘R.’

He clicked the name and held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring, the sound filling his ears as if he weren’t surrounded by blaring his music. His breath caught in his throat when the ringing stopped and someone answered.

“Robb, I need you to come get me. Please.” Theon begged into the phone, voice cracking. “Please.” 

"Theon?" Robb asked, voice scratchy from sleep. The sheets rustled as he sat up, the phone line crackling. "It's one in the morning? Wha-- Theon? You-- you're...? What happened, Theon?"

“I just- please. Please.” Theon repeated, his voice shaking. “I’m at that one club- I don’t remember what it’s called- it’s on Deepwood Road, I think?” 

Robb didn't even seem to question it. "I'll be right there," he said, and the rustling grew louder as he clambered out of bed, dashing down the stairs and out the door. "Just sit tight, be careful, okay?"

“Okay, okay.” Theon nodded, putting his phone in his pocket when Robb hung up to start driving. He waited outside but he was so anxious, jumping a little every time someone walked past, worried that he’d see Ramsay or one of the boys. He didn’t, though, and after what seemed like forever, Robb was finally there. He quickly climbed into the car, closing and locking the car door once he was sat down. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Robb, so he stared at the clock reading 1:32 am. 

"You don't have to tell me anything right now," Robb said after several minutes of silence. Just the mere presence of him in the car was comforting; he had missed it terribly over the past two months. "Just take your time, okay? I'm here, whenever you're ready to talk."

“Can we just... go home?” Theon murmured, his voice still terribly shaky. He could only imagine how Ramsay was reacting right now, he was probably so furious and so worried and... Theon swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a minute, trying not to think about him. 

"Of course, Thee," Robb said, grip tightening on the steering wheel. "We're almost there, don't worry. We'll get you home, and you can take a nice long shower and get plenty of sleep."

Theon nodded, absentmindedly reaching up to toy with the garnet necklace around his neck, trying to still his shaking hands. “I- um- when we get there, could I borrow- could I please borrow pajamas? If it’s okay, I mean.” 

"Of course you can," Robb said, hating this startlingly new meekness. Bolton's doing, no doubt... Robb wanted to smash the ugly bastard's face in.

Theon nodded, turning his head to look out the window. They were at the house soon, and he hesitated to get out until Robb did, following behind him as they quietly went inside.

Once in Robb's room, Robb pulled a pair of his softest pajamas from the dresser drawer and turned to Theon. His eyes fell to the necklace, lingering distastefully on the garnet teardrop, but he said nothing about it. 

"Here," he said, passing him the pajamas. "These should work, right?"

Theon placed his phone, still turned off, on the nightstand and turned away from Robb, pulling his shirt off over his head. It felt good to be home, but at the same time, there was fear and guilt mingling in his stomach. He took off his pants, folding his removed clothes neatly and placing them atop Robb’s dresser. He hesitated, but ended up reaching behind his neck, taking the garnet necklace off. It felt freeing, almost. He placed it on top of Robb’s dresser as well. 

Robb's lips parted in horror, and he wanted to cry but nothing escaped him for a long moment while he watched Theon undress. His back was littered with old wounds, long scabbed-over lashes, some stretching diagonally across his back, crisscrossing, and others were healed already, smaller lacerations over his hips and legs. 

"Theon," he choked out. "What happened? Did... Did Bolton do that to you?"

Theon froze. Robb didn’t know. Robb wasn’t used to seeing his body as it was currently. Ramsay, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised by any cuts or bruises or scars, not when he either made them himself or watched them being made. Theon hadn’t cared to look at himself much in the mirror lately. He could see the damage done to his front, and that was enough for him. He supposed his back must have really looked bad- it had felt bad, when Damon whipped him. 

“No.” He answered quietly. Ramsay had created a fair amount of the marks on his body, but not the whip marks that Theon was sure Robb was referring to. “He- he didn’t.” 

Sure, Ramsay had given permission to Damon to whip him- and had hung him up to be whipped, and had refused to help him- but Ramsay didn’t wield the whip himself. The fading bruises and bite marks on his neck and chest and thighs were Ramsay’s. The healing friction burns on his wrists were Ramsay’s doing as well. The ugly scars from his multiple separate dog bites couldn’t really be blamed on Ramsay, he supposed. 

Robb came closer, hands outstretched, but stopped a hairsbreadth away from touching him, and they fell limply to his sides. "Theon," he said, "even if he didn't directly do this, he's still responsible if he let it happen. Those," he said, pointing to the jaggedly-healed bite wounds. "He sent his dogs after you? He did to Yara, too-- the big one."

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” Theon quickly responded, hurrying to pull the shirt on over his head to hide the scars. “I-he’s not-“ He shook his head, fumbling to get the pants on as well. If he said anything bad about Ramsay... he couldn’t. Ramsay would be so angry with him. Even though his boyfriend wasn’t there to hear, he was too scared to speak poorly of him. “He hasn’t beat- punished me in a while, he- he didn’t do anything bad.” 

"Punished?" Robb echoed, face twisting. That horrible, burning, stabbing feeling in his gut was driving his words; he hated Ramsay Bolton, hated the bastard so much, wanted him to burn, to choke, to rot, to die... "There's nothing you should be getting punished for! Theon, he's abusing you!"

Theon flinched at Robb’s harsh tone. “N-no, he’s not, he’s just- he- I’m bad, he has to.” Ramsay would be so mad if he heard him right now. Ramsay might even kill him. His boyfriend hated Robb. No, Theon wouldn’t say anything bad about him, he was good, he could be good- and yet, he was standing in Robb Stark’s room and not in Ramsay’s. 

"You're not bad, Theon," Robb said, and his hand fell to rest gently on Theon's shoulder. "He's evil. You're safe, here, okay? He won't get you."

“No- no!” Theon exclaimed, flinching at the touch and turning to face Robb. “No, no, he’s not evil, he just- I was bad, I was bad and I’m being bad now, and...” He trailed off, gaze darting frantically around the room as if Ramsay would come out from one of the corners. 

"You're not being bad, Thee, you're looking out for yourself. Bolton doesn't care about you," Robb said, looking sadly at him. He wouldn't quite say that Theon was broken--he was here, wasn't he?--but there was something amiss, something lacking in his best friend. He almost seemed like different person, weak and trembling, nervous and scared.

Theon just shook his head. “No, he cares. He- he takes care of me, he’s good to me, he love- he loves me, and... and I ran away.” Guilt was weighing down in his stomach and he felt sick. 

"He tortures you!" Robb cried, then lowered his voice. "He tortures you, Thee, that's not love! That's not care! You ran away to save yourself! He was killing you, Thee."

“N-no, no, no.” Theon wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “He’s just doing what’s b-best for me, he only hurts me when... when I’m bad.” 

"You're never bad, Thee..." Robb said quietly. "You don't deserve what he's done-- what he's doing to you."

“He’s gonna be so mad.” Theon groaned, clutching the fabric of the pajama shirt in his fists. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “He- he just started letting me out, and I- I broke his trust, he’s gonna be so mad.” 

"Letting you out?" Robb said, his heart skipping a beat. "Letting you out of what?" He felt a terrible, wrenching feeling; were those stupid basement remarks true? Was Bolton keeping Theon locked up? The mental image of Theon, chained and crying out as a whip lashed against his back, blood streaming down like tears streamed down his cheeks...

“The- the collar, the basement. M-my room, they’re just my room.” He blinked rapidly, trying to get the tears to stay in his eyes. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t. “It was just to keep me safe.” 

"Keep you safe?" Robb roared, infuriated, then remembered that it was nearing two in the morning, and everybody else in the house was asleep. "He wasn't keeping you safe, he was keeping you prisoner!"

Theon started crying at that, flinching when Robb raised his voice. He shook his head, hugging himself tighter and staring at the floor. “No, Robb, no, he- he loves me, he loves me. He just wanted me safe, that’s all, that’s all! Be-because I was bad and-and he thought I would run away, and I did run away, and he’s gonna be so mad!” He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. 

Robb lurched forward and hugged him close, wrapping his arms securely around him so Theon's head fell to rest on his shoulder. He could feel the damp patch where Theon's tears soaked into the shoulder of his t-shirt. "You're not going back to him," Robb said. "Please, Theon, you don't deserve him, you deserve so much better..."

“I’m his.” Theon mumbled, but he wrapped his arms back around Robb and hugged him tightly. “He- he owns me.” His voice was muffled by Robb’s shirt and his own tears. 

A stone sank into his gut, dense and dragging, a cold flower swallowing up his insides. "He doesn't own you, Thee, nobody owns you. You're you, you're free, Thee. You're home."

“No, no... I’m- I’m his possession...” The word tasted sour on his tongue, but it was true. He was Ramsay, Ramsay was his master. “He’s gonna be so mad, so mad at me, he’s gonna hit me, he- he’ll let the boys hit me.” 

"He let the Boys...? Theon, is that...? Was it Damon?" Robb grit his teeth, rubbing a gentle, soothing circle on Theon's back.

Theon sobbed, clutching the back of Robb’s shirt in his fists. “Y-Yea. And he let Yellow Dick- he... I hate them. I hate the boys.” 

"Oh, Theon..." Robb pulled him in closer, sitting down with him so Theon was practically across his lap. "You're never going back. You'll never have to see him again. Mom, she's friends with Officer Tarth-- We can report them, and they'll be arrested, and they'll never so much as see you again."

“No, no...” Theon mumbled, feeling a bit safer on Robb’s lap, in his arms. “He’s my m-master. I can’t report him. We can’t. You- you don’t understand.” 

"Master? He's not your master!" Robb said, shaking his head vehemently. "You don't have a master. You're Theon Greyjoy, remember?"

“I’m his, I am, you don’t understand. He- he scares me, and he hurts me, he... he beats me and rapes me, and Robb it hurts so bad...” His voice cracked and he sobbed, hiding his face in Robb’s shirt. 

"You're not his, he just wants you to think that," Robb murmured, tears burning in his own eyes. "I'll protect you, remember? I'll keep you safe."

“It hurts, it always hurts.” Theon’s voice shook. “He’s always hurting me, he-he’s always letting them hurt me, he locks me up with a collar in the basement, and it’s so dark and cold...” He was getting carried away, rambling, letting everything out. “When I- when I went back to break up with him, he was so- he was so nice, and then he just threw me around a-and he- Drowned God, Robb, all he does is hurt me!” 

"Stay here," he begged, "away from him. Let me report it, please, Thee, let me report it so he can never hurt you again. You'll never be left in the dark or the cold again, or made to wear a collar, or call anybody master. Thee, you... You deserve better than him."

“When he- when Damon whipped me- I tried to get Ramsay to stop him, I tried, I told him I loved him and he- he called me a liar, he told me that I cried for you in my sleep, he was so mad. I hadn’t done anything, he just let Damon whip me b-because Damon wanted, I didn’t even do anything wrong!” Theon insisted, as if he had to convince Robb. 

"You haven't done a thing wrong," Robb said again, biting his lip. "Bolton, he's-- he's manipulative, he's a liar, he doesn't care about anybody besides himself. He was trying to break you. He could never break you."

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Robb.” Theon was pressed as close to Robb as possible, clinging to him. “I don’t love him, I’m just- I’m just scared, I’m so fucking scared and I don’t know what to do.”

"Stay here!" he repeated urgently. "Don't apologize, Thee, you haven't done anything wrong. I'll protect you, just like I promised. I told Rickon I would be your wolf, remember?"

“He calls you the young wolf. He says- he says-“ Theon struggled to get the words out, feeling sick to his stomach. “He said he wanted Ilyn Payne to kill you and sew Grey Wind’s head on your body.” 

Robb swallowed hard. "He... He said what?" Nauseating images of Grey Wind, bleeding and dead with no spark of life in those yellow eyes came to mind and he wanted to throw up, to cry, to pound the life out of Ramsay Bolton... Anything besides visualize that sort of scenario.

“I couldn’t say anything. I was scared he’d hurt me, I’m sorry. And I’m- I’m sorry I ran when you came, you and Yara, she got hurt and the dogs could’ve got hurt, and you- you-“ He shook his head. He had nightmares sometimes, about Robb being tortured, killed. He woke up in tears most of the time, but his body was always aching, so he had an excuse. 

"Shhh, Thee, it's okay..." Robb soothed, still battling his own inner turmoil. He'd have nightmares about that for sure; Grey Wind's bloody severed head, sewn messily to his own body, too heavy to really stay on, stitches tearing through skin and muscle... He shuddered, and pulled Theon closer, more onto his lap, and his friend's shoulders trembled under his arms.

“I thought he wouldn’t hurt me if I stayed.” Theon murmured, calmed slightly by the smell of Robb’s soap, the Grey Mist scent that had been one of his comforts when Ramsay had first started hurting him. 

"He's a monster, Thee." Robb slowly released him, letting him lay down against the mattress, sinking into the blankets and pillows. "Sit tight, just relax for a minute, okay? I'll be right back, I promise."

Theon reluctantly let go of him and nodded, curling up his side on the bed. His heart was aching and his stomach was churning, tears now soaking into the pillowcase instead of Robb’s shirt. 

Robb left the room, moving silently down the hall to Sansa's room, and he slid the door open as quietly as possible.

"Queenie," he hissed. "Come here, girl." The little dog padded out to him, fur fluffy and soft as per usual, but her eyes had lost their old spark and she walked heavily with none of the old bounce in her step. He scooped her up, stroking her, and she buried her nose in his shirt, sniffing intensely. Her tail started to wag, and Robb grinned, carrying her off to his room. 

"Yeah? You smell him? Well, guess what? Guess who's home?" He reentered his room, cradling the little dog against his chest, and she writhed in his grip the moment she saw Theon, straining to get towards him, tail wagging frantically.

Theon’s face suddenly lit up in a way it hadn’t for a long while now, and he choked out a loud sob. Queenie, his sweet little puppy, she was right there in front of him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Robb handed him his puppy. He let her lick all over his face, cleaning off his tears, and he planted kisses on her tiny head whenever he got the chance. “Queenie, oh Queenie. I’m so sorry. I missed you, my sweet girl, my perfect little pup.” 

The little dog seemed to accept the apology, and she was practically vibrating with excitement. He held her in his arms, so soft and warm, and he could almost forget how much had gone wrong in the past few months. 

"I've never seen a dog so depressed before," Robb said, "but she's been miserable without you. Sansa has been looking after her." The mattress dipped as he sat beside them, watching as Queenie squeaked and squirmed, nosing at and licking every inch of Theon she could.

“I missed her so much. My good girl, that’s you! You’re my good little girl.” He cooed, laying down on the bed and laughing when she stood on his chest and kept sniffing and licking at his face. 

Robb laid beside him at an appropriate distance, for he did not know and did not want Theon uncomfortable. "You should get some sleep, Thee," Robb said. "I'll skip tomorrow and we can figure things out, okay?"

“Mhm.” Theon agreed, not really paying attention to Robb, more just focusing on the wiggling ball of fur standing on top of him. 

She settled down after a little while, curling up on his chest. He giggled softly and moved her onto the bed so he could comfortably lay on his side, his puppy laying down right next to him. She curled up into a little fuzzy ball, looking content. He gave her one last little kiss on the head. 

“Goodnight, Queenie. Goodnight Robb.” Theon offered him a smile before closing his eyes, falling asleep almost right away. 

"Good night, Thee," Robb said softly, pulling a blanket up over Theon's shoulders. It draped over him, over Queenie, so only her little face poked out. Robb let out a sigh, closing his eyes, relishing the feel of his best friend beside him, close to him again. Selfishly, he thought again of how he did love him, and vaguely wondered if Theon still felt the same, before he drifted off.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve been dreading posting this chapter ever since sunday’s Episode. Which broke both of us. Please don’t hate us for this.

_Robb,_

_I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stay. I had to go back. Don’t come after me, please stay safe and keep Queenie safe. I’ll be fine. I love Ramsay. I need to be with him._

_Theon._

He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand while he wrote, trying to calm how badly his body was shaking. He was Ramsay’s property. Ramsay owned him, and he had no right to run away from home. If he went back, Ramsay would leave the Starks alone. He couldn’t risk them getting hurt for him.

He covered his mouth with his hand to muffle a sob, looking with teary eyes at Robb and Queenie asleep on the bed. His phone was in his pocket, having already texted Ramsay to ask him to pick him up.

He was terrified to go back. He didn’t even want to imagine how Ramsay would punish him. He trembled harder at the thought of it, gut twisting and turning. He wanted to think Ramsay wouldn’t punish him, would be proud of him for coming back, but he knew better. He was so stupid. He should’ve never left- all he did was put the Starks in danger, and now he was going back anyway and he was going to be hurt. He knew he was going to be hurt badly.

After Theon signed his name and set down the pen, he changed back into his clothes from the night before, leaving Robb’s folded pajamas atop his dresser in their place. He went quietly over the bed, kissing the top of Queenie’s head. She looked sleepily up at him and he could feel his heart breaking.

“I’m sorry, little girl. Daddy’s gotta go again. You’ll be safe here. I love you, okay?”

She gave him a tired lick on the cheek and he kissed her head again, smiling sadly as she set her head back down to continue sleeping. Ramsay would be at the house any time now, and Theon did not want him trying to come inside. He quietly left the house, standing out on the porch and waiting.

He felt like passing out, or puking, or sprinting away when he saw Ramsay’s car pull into the driveway. He did none of those things, however. He climbed into his boyfriend’s car without a word, staring sadly at the Stark house through the rear view mirror as they drove away, Ramsay’s hand placed firmly on his thigh.

"You made me worry," Ramsay said quietly, but he didn't need to speak up. The intense timbre of his voice was enough to quell any thoughts, any breath that Theon may have had. "I thought you had left me for good."

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” Theon mumbled, hugging himself tightly, heart pounding in his chest. “I’d never- I’d never leave you.”

"But you did," Ramsay said coldly, "and now I can't trust you anymore. I'll have to punish you, Theon. You're bad, very bad."

Theon was trembling. “I know. I know, Rams- master. Master, I know.” He shifted his gaze down to the floor, trying to ignore the fear threatening to overwhelm him.

"Master," he scoffed. "You defy your master? Bad pet... I ought to collar you again, hm?"

“I deserve to be punished.” Theon responded, voice shaking. “What-whatever you think. I was bad.”

"The collar didn't seem to do the trick, though, did it? You know," he snarled, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. "It's no fun if the toys don't break."

“Whatever you think I deserve, master.” Theon’s voice grew softer and he tried not to shake so much, but to no avail. “I-I’m sorry I was bad. I’m sorry.”

"Bad dogs don't get treats. Bad dogs don't get love. Bad dogs," he said, growing louder in his rage, "get beaten. Bad dogs get chained. Bad dogs get muzzled."

“W-What?” Theon looked up at him suddenly with wide eyes. “Muzzled? I- I’m- master, I’m sorry.”

"You're sorry?" Ramsay shook his head. "No, you're not. Not yet. You will be."

“I am, I am!” He insisted. “I promise I’m sorry! I love you, master, I- I love you and I’m sorry!”

"Bad dogs don't get to talk!" Ramsay roared, swerving dangerously around a turn, speeding down his street. "Bad dogs get the basement."

Theon froze, terrified, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He just nodded, arms tightening around himself. It was almost as if he could feel Ramsay’s anger, burning and freezing at the same time, radiating from his body.

Upon pulling into the driveway, Ramsay slammed his door open, storming around to Theon's side of the car, grabbing him by the arm and unceremoniously hauling him inside. He shoved the basement door hard; it banged against the wall and drifted back, and he shoved it again as he hauled Theon off downstairs, dropping him to the floor at the base of his pole. The collar still hung on its chain, and within seconds Ramsay had fastened it, tighter this time than it ever had been before, and he took the wrist cuffs and chained them to the ceiling hook, catching Theon's wrists in the cuffs.

Theon choked out a sob at the harsh treatment, still trembling terribly. It hurt to swallow with how tightly Ramsay had secured the collar, and his arms were already sore after just moments of being hooked to the ceiling. He wanted to plead, to beg, but he knew it would just make Ramsay more angry with him.

Ramsay left him there, unable to sit down, sure his legs would be trembling and sore by the hour's end, and left the room, slamming the door behind him. The nightlight was gone from the wall, leaving Theon in drowning black.

Once alone, Theon started sobbing in earnest, but it hurt to do. The collar made it hard to breath, to swallow, to cry. He wished he was still in bed at the Stark’s, with Queenie and Robb, safe and warm and away from harm. The darkness of the room made him anxious, terribly so, and that only made him cry harder.

Ramsay returned barely a minute later, but to Theon it could have been hours. He carried an ugly metal contraption, and he grabbed Theon by the hair, pulling his face up towards him. Ramsay gave him a cruel grin, and shoved a metal gag in his mouth, strapping it tight. On top of that, he took the metal contraption, a dog muzzle, and forced it onto him. Meant to fit a dog's head, it sat awkwardly on his face, tight and uncomfortable, but Ramsay sighed with pleasure at the sight. Theon stood, arms stretched up above him, quivering, heavy metal collar around his neck and muzzle on his face.

He could barely even cry now, the metal of the muzzle cutting into his skin. The gag muffled his sobs, made it even harder to breath than it already was. He looked pleadingly at Ramsay, eyes wide and wet and rimmed with red. He couldn’t even beg, not gagged as he was, and even if he weren’t, talking would only make Ramsay angrier.

"Not quite, I think..." Ramsay said thoughtfully, and he stepped closer, stripping Theon of his pants and throwing them aside, and he cut the tshirt from his body with that handsome curved flaying knife. He trailed the knife's tip over Theon's naked chest, watching as goosebumps raised in it's wake, and then he dug the tip of the blade in and carved his name into Theon's flesh.

He backed away, grinning, face flush. "There," he said with relish. Almost there."

Theon sobbed, an ugly, muffled sound, squeezing his eyes shut so he didn’t have to look at Ramsay’s name carved in bloody lines on his skin. It hurt, sharp and stinging and aching in his chest, as if Ramsay had carved into his actual heart.

"Don't cry, bad dog... Nobody wants to hear it," Ramsay said huskily. From his sweatshirt pocket, he drew out two objects. One, he forced onto Theon's head, the hard plastic of it digging into his scalp under the straps from the muzzle: two velvety, floppy dog ears now framed Theon's face, ears rather like the corsos'. Ramsay's grin broadened, and he reached behind Theon and probed the other against his ass, forcing the plug into him, and bestowing upon Theon a furry dog's tail.

Theon screamed when Ramsay pushed the plug into him- he was too dry, too tight, and the plug was too big- not to mention humiliated. He could feel his face heating up, flushing bright red. Ramsay was making him into a dog, a bitch. The shame made him feel sick and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball on the floor and just sleep. Everything hurt- the sharp pain from the metal of the gag an the muzzle, the dull ache of the collar around his throat, the pull of his weight on his arms, the throbbing pain in his ass.

"Bad dogs get neutered, too, don't they?" Ramsay asked, tilting his head and studying Theon's limp manhood. "Bad, horny dogs who run from their masters to sleep in another's bed?"

No, Theon thought frantically, heart racing. No, no, no, no, no, no... he shook his head, eyes now open and staring at Ramsay in horror. He jerked his wrists against the cuffs, squirming as if it would help him get away. Ramsay wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Theon shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. Please no, he thought, as if Ramsay could hear.

Ramsay traced the tip of his flaying knife over Theon's flaccid penis, over the base, and looked up with a playful grin. He pulled the knife away, twirling it, and put it away.

"Not today," he said. "The bad dog needs his rest, right? I'll see you tomorrow... Maybe."

Theon’s body went limp with relief. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if Ramsay had actually... he didn’t want to think about it, about the pain and the blood and the phantom aching he imagined he’d feel after. He wanted to throw up at the thought. He stared at Ramsay, eyes sad and desperate. He hated him. He hated him so much, but he didn’t want to be alone, not in the dark and cold when he was aching all over.

Ramsay smiled sweetly, leaving the room, and leaving Theon alone with his thoughts.

* * *

 

Across town, Robb was waking up, alone, to the sound of Queenie's cries.

"Theon?" he called, bleary and confused. "Theon, where'd you go?" He sat up, looked around, and slid out of bed. "Maybe he went to the bathroom?" he murmured. "Queenie, shhh. He'll be right ba–" He stopped, for he had just seen the paper on his desk, the paper with Theon's handwriting, and the stone was back, heavy in his gut. "Oh, Thee, no..."

He picked up the note, read it, and reread it, because this couldn't be right. His eyes must be deceiving him. Theon was gone? Theon had left? His eyes lingered on the hastily scribbled words of love: 'I need to be with him'. Theon must have been so terrified, he thought miserably, and he had just slept beside him, dreaming and oblivious while Theon wrote out his note. It read almost like a permanent goodbye, and the idea of that was wrenching. He just got Theon back— Theon had just gotten out, gotten home, he had been free... And now he was gone again, maybe gone forever, and this time there was nothing be could do, because he held written evidence of Theon's own resolution in his hands, written evidence of Theon's willingness, his decision, to return to Bolton. Now, if Theon were in trouble, there was no way Robb could act, and he knew he was undoubtedly in trouble. Bolton would have picked him up—how else would Theon have left?—and he was sure to never let Theon out of his sight again.

Robb sank to his mattress again, drowning. Queenie whimpered, louder, more insistently, and pressed her nose into his hand. He stroked her head.

"I'm sorry," he said weakly. "He's gone again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would y’all like it if we changed to posting a chapter every other day as opposed to three set times a week?


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry. This is likely one of if not the most brutal chapter in the story. TW for implied gang rape and just everything else you could ever associate w Ramsay and the boys

Theon had been left in the dark for an indeterminate time— at least, to him. He was jerked out of his mindless stupor by wild voices, raunchy laughter, and heavy footsteps down the stairs outside. A moment later, his door opened and the light flooded on, blinding, and the Bastard's Boys stood in the doorway, grinning perversely.

“Well, would you look at that. Ramsay’s really made him into a bitch, huh?” Damon stepped in first, hungrily eyeing him up in down.

Theon just stared at them tiredly, a tiny part of him hoping they’d come to free him. He knew that hadn’t, but there was a chance... he looked at the boys, making eye contact with Skinner, pleading silently with his eyes.

Skinner looked coolly back at him, taking in his doggish accessories, and his lips quirked up into a smirk.

"Ramsay's dressed him up for us," he said loudly, jokingly. "It's a fitting look for you, kid. Pathetic enough, anyways," he said. He stepped forward, taking the chain down from the hook on the ceiling, and watched with sick amusement as Theon immediately slumped to the floor, boneless and exhausted.

“He’s always been a bitch, but now he looks the part.” Damon grinned over to Skinner, taking in the look on his face. “Does this get ya going, Skinner? Should I dress up like this sometime?”

Yellow Dick walked over, nudging Theon’s limp cock with the toe of his boot, causing Theon to whimper and weakly scoot backward. “Surprised Ramsay let him keep this thing.”

"It's more fun for us, that way," Sour Alyn jeered. Grunt grunted in agreement, while Skinner made intense eye contact with Damon, grinning.

“We’re gonna have to take that tail out of you, little bitch.” Damon taunted, leering down at him. “Why don’t you roll over, stick that pretty ass up? Aren’t dogs supposed to be on all fours?”

Theon just stared up at him, fear and humiliation in his eyes, scooting back a little more. No. Ramsay wouldn’t... there was no way Ramsay would let them. He found himself trembling, body weak and aching and full of fear.

"Do it, kid," Skinner said sharply. Luton grabbed Theon by the hip, turning him over so he knelt on all fours, and he grabbed the tail, tugging it so Theon's ass was in the air.

"That's better," he said.

Theon whimpered in pain while Luton tugged at the tail, the plug inside him shifting and pulling uncomfortably.

“Aw, does the pup not like when we pull his tail?” Damon reached over and gave it a harsh tug- not hard enough to pull out the plug, but enough that it made Theon cry out, the sound still muffled by the gag.

“What about his other one?” Yellow Dick sneered, eyeing Theon in a way that made him feel violently uncomfortable.

“He doesn’t need us to touch that, he’s a slutty little bitch enough as is, from what Rams has said. Someone get that muzzle and gag off, I wanna hear him cry.” Damon kept his hold on the tail, amused by Theon’s weak squirming.

"Leave the muzzle," Skinner said sharply. "Let him look like the mutt he is. He can talk with that, anyways, it's just for looks. Take the gag, let him scream."

Sour Alyn took off the muzzle and then the gag, securing the muzzle back onto his head once the gag was removed. Theon sobbed loudly, scared and humiliated and praying for Ramsay to come down and tell the boys to fuck off.

“You’re a noisy little bitch, huh? You gonna make this much noise when we fuck you? Or are you gonna moan like a bitch in heat instead?”

Theon just shook his head and sobbed, sighing softly in relief when Damon let go of the tail plug. He let his hips fall back flat onto the floor, but instantly regretted it when he heard the uncoiling of Damon’s whip.

“You don’t wanna cooperate, little pup?” Damon growled, cracking his whip in the air. “We can play rough, if you want. I thought you didn’t like my whip, but with this insolent attitude, I’m starting to think you want to be beaten.”

The whip came down against Theon’s back, and he screamed.

* * *

 

Theon curled in on himself, knees hugged tightly to his chest, sobbing as quietly as he could. Everything hurt so bad, so much worse than it had ever hurt before. His ass, his mouth, his whole body. He felt bruised and battered and beaten and oh so filthy. He could feel the come leaking out of him and onto the cold basement floor. He felt sick to his stomach, and when he forced himself to sit up so he could vomit, it was a mix of bile and the sperm he’d been forced to swallow. The sight just made him feel worse and he scooted away from it, dragging himself closer to the pole he was chained to so he could lean his back against it.

He’d never wanted to see Ramsay more in his life. He’d never wanted Ramsay’s touch so much. He’d beg Ramsay to hit him if it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with the Bastard’s Boys ever again.

A sudden wave of fear crashed over him as he thought of how Ramsay would react when he found out about what had happened. Would he be mad at Theon? Would he think Theon was gross? He knew Ramsay was possessive of him, but would he even want him anymore if he saw that he’d been used and fucked and beaten by not one, not two, but seven other men? And not separately either, they’d forced him to take two at once, then to take one on each end, and he was pretty sure one of them had even fisted him at some point. Even so, he could feel his own come dried on his stomach and thighs. His body had betrayed him. The boys had made him come. The thought made him want to vomit again.

He still felt so open, so empty and filthy and gross, as if he’d never be properly tight down there again. He knew it would heal, but the thought still terrified him. He knew they’d tore him, especially after Grunt and Yellow Dick took him in the ass at the same time. That had been agony. He was already bleeding, he was sure he was already torn, but that was when he knew for sure. There’d been a terrible noise and sharp pain that had him choking and gagging around Damon’s cock. He could barely remember any of the double penetration, and for that he was thankful, because he thought he might puke again if he remembered too much.

Theon hid his face against his knees as his sobs echoed through the small room in the basement. He couldn’t keep them quiet anymore.

He wanted to crawl out of his own skin, to bleach himself inside and out, to burn away all the filth and grime and shame.

The open wounds on his back throbbed painfully, blood dried on his skin. Damon had whipped him at first, when he’d tried to fight them. Damon’s whip was so sharp, so terrifyingly accurate. That combined with the threat of Skinner’s knife had been enough to make him comply.

Even when he complied, even when he had stopped fighting, it still hurt. Damon had fucked him dry with the handle of his whip until he bled and sobbed for him to use his cock instead. Skinner had carved something into the skin of his back- whether it was words or just plain cuts, he didn’t know. They’d used his own blood as lube, he knew that, and told him he should be thankful. Blood was too sticky, too quick to dry, but he’d had to thank them anyway.

While Damon and Skinner had tools to scare him, Grunt was just naturally terrifying, so brutal and careless, Sour Alyn cut him with his words, and Luton and Yellow Dick were both just plain vicious. Ben Bones didn’t lay a hand on him, but Theon recognized him, he knew Ben. Ben took care of the dogs. Ben always just looked at him as if he were filthy. And he was.

He was fairly certain he’d passed out a few times during the assault, and the thought made him remember the afternoon he’d spent with Jon and Ygritte a few months ago. The memory made him sob loudly, a happy and pleasant memory put up against what was likely now his worst. He knew he shouldn’t have been thinking of such things- Ramsay wouldn’t like him thinking about other people, especially Starks.

He should’ve never run away. He’d tried a few days before- days? He wasn’t sure. He’d been locked down in the dark room in the basement for so long. It was his own fault for trying to leave, he should’ve known better. Ramsay just wanted him safe, that was why he’d locked Theon down there. Theon didn’t quite understand why he’d had to muzzle him, and gag him, and hang him from the ceiling- but he supposed it was supposed to be part of the lesson, or maybe Ramsay was just angry and Theon was too dumb to understand.

If he was locked in the basement, he couldn’t run away again. Theon quietly admired Ramsay’s decision. Ramsay always did what was best for him, even if it wasn’t easy. His poor Ramsay was probably so lonely, but Theon had to learn. Guilt pooled in Theon’s gut. It was his fault that Ramsay had to do everything on his own, that he had no Theon to talk to, or fuck, or sleep beside. Theon sniffed, feeling heavy tears roll down his cheeks. He was such a bad boyfriend, hurting Ramsay like this, he was so stupid. He didn’t deserve to have Ramsay be so kind to him, so caring.

He wanted nothing more than to show Ramsay how grateful he was to him, to tell him he understood now, to tell him he wouldn’t run again.

He felt relief when hearing heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, footsteps he knew to be Ramsay’s, the sound that normally scared him filling him with intense gratefulness instead. Ramsay wouldn’t use him like the Boys had, Ramsay loved him, he kept him safe, he’d told him so. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t run away again, not ever, and his sobs turned from pained sobs to relieved sobs as a key turned in the lock, the door opened, and he saw his boyfriend’s face.

Ramsay- his lover, his savior, his protector. Ramsay had come down for him!

“I’m sorry.” He wailed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Thank you for coming down. Thank you for coming for me, thank you, I’m so sorry. I won’t run off again, I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be so good, Rams, I won’t break rules anymore. I’m sorry.” He stared at Ramsay’s feet the whole time he spoke, dragging himself slowly toward him so that he could look directly up at him, nuzzling his face against his thigh. It hurt, he had bruises on his face and his jaw ached, but he wanted to show Ramsay he meant it. “I’m sorry, Rams, I’m sorry for trying to run. I’m just... I’m just stupid. I’m sorry.”

"Don't touch me," Ramsay spat, kicking him away. He looked utterly furious at the sight of him like that, and his pale eyes trailed over the chains and accessories laying abandoned on the floor. He looked at the fresh wounds on Theon's back, the strip where Theon's skin had been peeled away by Skinner's blade, and the blood seeping down his thighs. "They left you like this?" he asked angrily.

Theon cried out when Ramsay kicked him, stumbling back on the floor, looking up at Ramsay with tears pouring down his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I didn’t want it!” He insisted. “T-they left me like this, yes, master please- I’m sorry, they hurt me so much...”

"Shut up, fucking whore!" he spat, stomping out the desperate hope in those green eyes. "Careless idiots!" He grabbed the gag and shoved it to his mouth again, strapping it in, and fastened the muzzle over it. He pulled Theon up, chained his wrists to the ceiling once more, and plugged the tail back into his bleeding hole, all the while muttering about always having to clean up their messes.

Theon sobbed, the plug hurting much more severely than it had before the boys had torn into him. Ramsay didn’t care. Ramsay cared that they hadn’t chained him back up, that they hadn’t put the plug and gag back in, or the muzzle back on. He thrashed against the chains, feeling so disgusting, skin coated in blood and come and filth. He hadn’t wanted it. He wasn’t a whore, he hadn’t wanted it, he’d fought it- couldn’t Ramsay see that? Couldn’t he see how much Theon was bleeding and torn apart?

Ramsay raked a cold gaze over him, taking in every aspect of his ruined body. "You're dirty," he spat. "Defiled. Filthy whore bitch, spreading your legs for anybody with a cock? Are you that desperate to be bred?"

Theon shuddered, dizzy from the pain, trying to plead with his eyes. He wanted to say no, he didn’t want it, he only wanted Ramsay. He wanted to show Ramsay he was sorry. He wanted to beg forgiveness, to make him understand he hadn’t wanted it. He thrashed again the restraints, sobbing and whining and trying desperately to talk.

"Quit moving," Ramsay ordered, annoyed. "I don't want to look at you right now." He did, though, in the deepest disgust, before he turned and stormed out, leaving Theon alone again.

Theon screamed when Ramsay left, desperate and terrified, hoping he’d come back if only to shut him up. He was trembling violently and, as horrible as Ramsay’s disgust made him feel, he didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want Ramsay to leave, because then what if the boys came back? What if Ramsay was so disgusted with him that he gave him over to the boys? Did Ramsay not love him anymore?

Ramsay halted in the middle of the stairs, twitched, and almost went back to backhand Theon across his filthy slut face, but he refrained. It would bring him more satisfaction, he knew, to hear Theon's fear and desperation, screams echoing like music. His father would be home, tonight, and he always liked music.

Ramsay smiled at the though, ascending the rest of the stairs and leaving Theon to it.


	42. Chapter 42

Robb had sounded bad on the phone when he’d talked to Jon- really bad. He wasn’t sure if his brother was crying or angry or what, but it wasn’t good. He hadn’t said what it was about, but Jon was pretty certain it had something to do with Theon. When Robb had asked to come over, he’d agreed right away, of course, and now he was opening the door and standing on the porch of the apartment as his half brother’s car pulled into the driveway.

"Jon," Robb said, and from the car climbed Grey Wind and, for some reason, Queenie. "I really need to talk to you." At Jon's pressing look, he continued, "About Theon."

Jon nodded, feeling a wave of anger at the sight of the sad little Pomeranian. He was angry with Theon, for leaving her and for leaving the Stark house. “Okay. Come in.” He stepped inside, Robb and the two dogs following. Queenie perked up a bit when she saw Ghost and trotted over to try and get him to play with her. “You sounded really upset on the phone. I know you miss him, but that selfish fucker made his own choices. It’s best to just forget about him.”

"No, Jon, he... He came home last night. He called me from that nightclub over on Deepwood Road and asked me to pick him up. He told me..." Robb broke off, looking sick. "He told me some of that Bolton did to him."

Jon paled considerably, looking around to make sure no one was there to listen before ushering Robb into his room. He locked the door behind them, not wanting anyone listening in, and sat on the bed. “Wait- he came home? But then why’d he run from you and Yara?”

"He..." Robb rubbed a hand over his face, drawing in a calming breath. "Bolton's been raping him, and beating him, and letting his Boys at him... He has these horrible whip lashes, all over his back, Jon. Weeks old, now, but..."

Jon’s eyes widened. “No, Theon- Theon wouldn’t let him do that.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He wanted to think that there was no way, Theon was always so bold and so confident- but he was vulnerable. He’d been broken over Robb and Ramsay had taken him in, and Ramsay must’ve manipulated him... he felt sick thinking of it. “Where is he now?”

"He stayed the night, and when I woke up, he had left this." Robb pulled the folded note from his pocket and handed it to Jon, looking utterly miserable.

“Don’t come after me, please stay safe...” Jon read it over a few times. “He’s scared Ramsay will hurt you if he leaves?”

"He says that Bolton punishes him when he's 'bad'," he said, giving air quotes. "He's... Bolton's fucked him up, bad."

“Oh gods, Robb, gods...” Jon took a deep breath. “If he punishes him- if he punishes Theon for being ‘bad,’ how badly is Theon getting hurt right now? Bolton would punish him for running away, wouldn’t he?”

"Fuck... He would, yeah..." Robb sighed, thinking. "I'm trying to find a way to get him out of there, but right now, with that," he pointed to the note, "the law is on Bolton's side. Theon went there willingly. I can try to report abuse, but I have no proof, and what would the police do? Go over there and demand Theon take off his shirt?" It didn't seem plausible to him.

“How bad...” Jon trailed off, thinking of how to ask. “How bad were the whip marks? Just some scars on his back?”

"There were so many of them, all over his back and some on his legs," Robb said, shaking his head. "They were bad. They looked deep... Some of them were healed, and the others were scabbed and healing. I don't know if those ones were newer, or just worse than the others."

Jon visibly shuddered. He didn’t want to think about Theon covered in lashes, or being whipped and manipulated and beaten down. “He’s gonna end up dead,” Jon said softly.

"I don't think there's anything I can do for him," Robb said plaintively, tears stinging his eyes. "He went back of his own accord, I can't..." He was disinclined to admit it, but... "I'm nervous to go back there. Theon said... Theon that Bolton wanted to—well, maybe not kill us himself, but he wanted to sew Grey Wind's head to my body."

“He said he wanted to what?” Jon exclaimed, eyes widening in shock. “Gods, that’s- that’s fucking sick. And Theon... gods, what’s he doing to them? Just the other day we were joking around about Ramsay keeping him locked up, and now...”

"He was, Jon, he was keeping him locked up. He kept him chained and collared like a dog. Worse than his dogs— they have free reign."

“That’s sick, Robb, that’s so sick. We can’t- we can’t just let him stay there!” Jon insisted, though the look in his eyes suggested he knew they couldn’t do anything.

"I know we can't, but I don't know what to do!" Robb closed his eyes, breathing deep, fisting his hands into the sheets of the bed on either side of him.

“Do you think he’d kill him? For trying to run away?” Jon’s voice trembled a tiny bit, although he tried to tell himself it didn’t.

"No," Robb said firmly. "I think Theon is locked up again, and he's probably getting 'punished'," he threw in more air quotes here, "for it, but I don't think Bolton would kill him. Not for that, anyways."

“We need to go there, we need to get him," Jon decided suddenly. “We need to go confront Bolton.”

"Might want to get some bite guards for your arms," Robb muttered. "We ought to bring the dogs-- not Queenie, just the boys."

“Two dogs against nine? I know Ghost and Grey Wind are big, but... they wouldn’t be able to fight nine dogs.”

Robb grimaced. "To be honest, I don't really want the dogs anywhere near Bolton anyways, especially after what he said."

“Seven hells. Theon...” Jon sighed. He hadn’t seen Theon, and he couldn’t imagine the skin of his back covered in ugly scarring. Their Theon was such a snarky fucker, always so bold and bright, that stupid grin always on his face. He couldn’t- no- he didn’t want to imagine Theon being beaten by the Bolton bastard.

"He set the Boys on him," Robb said again. "I... I never thought that Bolton would let them have at one of his precious toys." It pained him to refer to Theon as that, but he knew it was how Bolton saw him.

“Don’t they- don’t they hunt his toys, normally?” The word toy tasted sour on his tongue. “I mean, we both have heard the rumors, that Roose pays off the families and whatnot...”

"After they're broken," Robb said with distaste. "But there's still no proof they do anything. Just rumors. And Theon wasn't broken. He'd still be fun for Bolton, the way he was. Bolton had told me he was sick of playing nice," he reminded him, "but he's still playing."

“Did Theon say how... how often Bolton hurts him?” Jon didn’t want to imagine it.

"He just said, always," Robb said bitterly. "I don't know if that's every day or not-- he keeps him in the basement, so Theon's sense of time if probably fucked."

“The basement? Fuck, Robb, Theon- Theon loves being outside, I can’t imagine him just locked down in a basement.” He really couldn’t, the image of Theon locked down in the dark made him feel sick.

"We need to get him out but I don't know what to do. Jon, I'm scared," he confessed.

Jon was almost glad that he hadn’t been around to see Theon when Robb did. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it. He’d seen Theon’s body, slim but still muscular, skin so smooth and soft, the gentle arch of his back... he didn’t want to see it covered in wounds and scars, didn’t want to see those pretty long legs covered in whip marks. Theon loved his body, he was so vain, and... “Robb, are the scars on him really bad?”

"They're not going to go away, ever. Some of them might fade," he said, thinking of the smaller lashes on his shoulders, hips, and legs, "but at least half of them won't," he continued, thinking of the longer, deeper ones that had only scabbed, criss-crossing like a grid over his back.

“He must hate that," Jon said quietly. “He’s- gods, it was always so annoying, but he’s so vain.”

"When we get him out, we'll get him scar treatment," Robb swore. "But we have to get him out first."

“If we told Ygritte, she’d drive over and march in herself right away. She adores Theon.” Jon laughed weakly, but then paled. “Oh gods, we can’t tell Ygritte.”

"He'd hunt her," Robb said in all seriousness. "I have no doubt that he would hunt her if she went over there."

“Ygritte can’t find out,” Jon decided. “What about Theon’s sister?”

"Yara and I went over there together. He sent one of his dogs after her— the damned thing jumped right over the fence and grabbed her. She'll end up with a scar."

“Okay, so no telling Yara either.” Jon groaned, running a hand through his thick, dark curls. “Fuck, Robb, what are we gonna do?”

"I don't know," Robb said miserably. "I'm at a complete loss."

“I’d never tell him, but I’ve missed him too, Robb. It’s weird not hearing his constant whining and complaining in the halls at school, or at the lunch table, or in the car. It’s been really weird without him around. I just wanted you two to make up, but now he’s with Bolton, and he’s being abused...”

"I miss him too," Robb replied, "and I can't stop thinking this is my fault. I pushed him away to begin with, pushed him right to Bolton even though I knew that he was in town and they had already met, and then I complained? I got a girlfriend out of jealousy and now I've strung her along," he said guiltily, pausing and biting at his lip. "I'll have to break up with her, but I don't want to hurt her. And all the while, Theon's been being abused, and I've been complaining that he's ignoring me? He's been locked up and collared in a basement, without his phone, and I've been complaining like I'm the one who's been wronged."

“It’s not your fault.” Jon draped his arm over Robb’s shoulders, pulling him close in a half-hug. “You couldn’t have known.”

"But I didn't know, and that's the problem. I thought I knew, and I got angry with no good reason to."

“You saw him run away from you, Robb, anyone would’ve thought the same thing you did,” Jon insisted.

"I didn't call out to him, I didn't go after him, I just... Let him go. And then I slept, and he was gone again."

“It’s not your fault,” Jon repeated. “He’d hate to know you’re beating yourself up over it.”

"Why did he leave again?" Robb demanded in a burst of anger. "He— he was out, he was safe, he was home... Why did he go back?"

“Fear.” Jon answered without hesitation. “He’s scared of him, obviously- you said Theon told you Ramsay wants to sew Grey Wind’s head onto your body. He probably thought Ramsay would come over him, and you’d get hurt.”

"Bolton can't touch me," Robb said dismissively. "With five wolfdogs, and Arya's new paranoia? We'd know he was there the second he set foot on the property."

“He-“ Jon didn’t want to say it, but it was a possibility. “He might actually love Bolton, in some fucked up way.”

"If he does, it's a case of Stockholm Syndrome," Robb said stubbornly. "Or he's lying to himself to spare a bit of pain."

“I just... don’t know if there’s anything we can do right now, Robb.” He wrapped his arms around his half brother, able to see the sadness and fear and anger all mixed in his expression. “I’m sorry.”


	43. Chapter 43

"Rise and shine, kid!" Skinner called loudly, pounding his fist on the door as he entered. He carried a cloth bag in one hand, and he wore a light scowl on his face. "I got something for you! Wake up, wake up!"

The sight of Skinner used to bring him relief, but now he just stared at him in horror and wished he could move away, wished he wasn’t tied up and gagged. The flayed stripe on his back itched and ached and the plug inside him shifted when he did, making him whine. He didn’t want to see Skinner. He didn’t want to see him at all. He felt betrayed, really, betrayed because not only had Skinner not stopped the boys from gang raping him, but he’d done it as well. He remembered what Skinner said the first time they met. 

Theon had said ‘fuck you’ and Skinner had replied ‘Maybe someday.’ Theon hadn’t taken it seriously, especially not after knowing him longer. Skinner had been his favorite of the boys, Skinner never really scared him before, but now he was terrified. 

"Oh, you're giving me the tingles, looking at me like that!" Skinner said, grinning. "Do you want to see what I got you? Or do you want to keep flinching and shit?"

Theon wanted to cry, looking down at the floor instead of at Skinner. He felt betrayed, and now Skinner’s voice just made him feel sick. He wanted Ramsay. He didn’t want one of the boys, any of the boys, he wanted his master. 

"No? You don't? It might make you feel better..." he continued teasingly, lifting the bag. He stared at him for a long moment, waiting. "You're not going to answer me? Oh... That's right. You can't."

The teasing made Theon’s gut twist painfully, humiliated by the reminder of the metal gag in his mouth. He whimpered, not able to do much else, uncomfortable with Skinner looking at him. 

"Do you want to know what it is?" Skinner asked, stepping closer. "Do you want to see your present?"

Theon’s breathing grew shorter, more frantic. Skinner’s voice just brought back memories of what he’d done to him, what the boys had done to him. He could remember the taunts and the laughter as they took him, one after the other, not caring how much he hurt or cried or bled. He began trembling, not wanting Skinner any closer to him. He wanted his master, he wanted his master so badly, not one of the boys. He just whimpered in response, his fear practically overwhelming him. 

"No?" Skinner asked, cocking his head. He offered a leering smile. "You'll regret it, if you don't."

Theon didn’t want to, but he looked up at him, eyes wet and obviously terrified. 

"All right," Skinner said with a rolling shrug. "If you really don't want it..." He tossed the bag aside, and whatever was inside clattered and bumped together as it hit the floor.

Theon just whined. It wasn’t like he could say yes or no. He eyed the bag nervously, wondering what was inside- wondering if he even wanted to know. 

"You don't want it, but you keep looking at it. Are you afraid of it?" After a thought, he added, "Are you afraid of me?"

Theon tensed, though he still trembled, and slowly nodded his head. 

"Afraid of it?" He leaned in so his face was close to Theon's, mottled green eyes boring into him. His breath was warm, ghosting over Theon's face. "Or are you talking about me?"

Theon whimpered pathetically, jerking at his restraints in an attempt to get away from Skinner. He couldn’t answer, he didn’t know why he kept asking him questions, all he knew was he was terrified. His heart was racing and he was practically in tears, but he couldn’t look away from Skinner’s eyes. 

Skinner grinned again, teeth straight and white, cruel, and he bopped the muzzle over Theon's face. "You're afraid of me," he jeered. "Why? I only did what I said I was going to do."

Tears crept out the corner of his eyes but he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Skinner’s face, his cruel eyes and wicked grin. He whimpered as the metal straps of the muzzle cut into the skin of his face, already so raw and sensitive from having been kept on so long. He’d been so stupid to think Skinner was different than any of the other boys. 

"Are you going to cry?" he teased, reaching around him to unstrap the muzzle, which he dropped to the floor, and he pulled the gag from Theon's lips. A string of drool followed it, breaking and falling over Theon's lip and chin. "Here, kid. Don't tell your master, okay?"

Theon took a deep, shaking breath, relieved to finally be able to breath from his mouth. The removal of the muzzle was such a relief. “W-why are you taking it off?” He was surprised by his own voice, hoarse from days without use except for screaming when the boys had used him. He wasn’t mad that Skinner took it off, just confused. 

"I like you better when you're talking, kid. You're boring when you just stare and shiver and cry," he looked him up and down, at the ears and tail still attached to him, "like a bitch."

That hurt. Theon almost wanted to stay quiet to spite him, but fear got the better of him, so he talked. “Where’s Ra- where’s my master been?” 

Skinner's lips curved up into a half-smile. "He's been... busy. Why? Eager to see him again? Think he'll give you a bath, make you dinner, and let you sleep in a bed again?"

Theon’s bottom lip quivered. He wished for that, he wanted Ramsay’s soft touches, he wanted a warm bath and a soft bed- but mostly, he just wanted Ramsay. He felt his heart aching. “I-I want him. Why hasn’t he come to see me?” 

"Don't lie, it's unbecoming. You don't want him, you're terrified of when he'll be back, and you want a warning so you can prepare yourself. Well," he said, reaching up to unhook the chain from the ceiling, letting Theon's arms fall limply to his side. Skinner finally moved away from him and went to fetch the bag. "I've been told not to tell you. I can do whatever I want with you, or to you, so long as I don't set you free and I don't tell you anything about anything that's going on." He turned back to him, clutching the bag again. "So. Care to see what's in the bag now?"

“I want my master.” Theon insisted, ashamed of the tears dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t know what was in the bag, and he was scared to find out, but it felt so good to finally drop his arms and sit down. 

"You don't," Skinner told him curtly. "You want what he used to do for you. You want his gentle touch, you want him to smile at you and kiss you, to pamper you and to love you. You want what you thought he was, what you wish he was."

The sound Theon made at that could only be described as pathetic, a sad little wail that had his tears streaming down his cheeks at a much faster rate. He was right, Skinner was right, he wanted Ramsay’s strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close, protective and loving and oh so warm. He wanted Ramsay’s lips moving gently against his, the soft murmurs of ‘I love you’ in his ear. Ramsay had been so sweet, and now he was so cold and cruel and Theon was suddenly thinking of Robb. Robb, who’d known him for years and never ever tried to hurt him, no matter what. 

But he didn’t have Robb, and it was best not to think of him, to not think of that auburn hair and those bright blue eyes. He couldn’t have Robb, never again, because he was Ramsay’s and as long as he was with him, he wouldn’t hurt Robb. He had to forget Robb. Even thinking about him was dangerous. Ramsay would know. 

Skinner sighed deeply. The kid was shaking, shivering where he sat, pathetic. He hated the sight of it, but he didn't feel an ounce of pity for him. Didn't the kid know that he had done this to himself? Skinner knew Ramsay, had known him for six years, and he knew what he was like. The kid would have had to have been blind to miss the warning signs Ramsay threw out. 

"Take it," he ordered, pushing the bag into his hands.

Theon nervously looked in the bag, relaxing a bit when he saw it was nothing bad. There was water, painkillers, ointment... he looked up at Skinner in confusion. “... why?” 

"Why what?" Skinner asked. "Why the pain killers? Why the ointment? Well, the ointment will help that heal," Skinner said, gesturing to where Ramsay had carved his name. "The pain killers are to kill the pain."

“N-no- I mean...” Theon twitched, not wanting to talk about the other day, but... “You- you skinned me, you raped me with the rest of them, why are you being nice now?” 

"It was part of the game," Skinner said, shrugging, not altogether getting why Theon was so stunned. "And that was then. This is now, and you need to stop questioning everything."

“That’s not how shit works!” Theon exclaimed, the fire in his eyes flaring up for the first time in a while. Anger. He was angry. His fingers wrapped around the neck of the metal water bottle in the back, and in the blind of an eye, he’d pulled it out and thrown it- aiming for Skinner’s head. 

It collided with Skinner's head, the sharp edge of the bottle's lid catching above his eye, leaving a thin cut. He cried out, caught off guard, and put a hand to the forming bump. "Bitch!" he swore. "What the fuck, kid?" Enraged, he took the bottle and swung it towards him, striking him across the face. "What the fuck do you know about how shit works? Of course that's how shit works! It's how we've been doing it for six fuckin' years!"

Theon shouted at the pain, hearing a nasty crack, the nerves in his mouth suddenly feeling as if they were in fire. He felt something hard in his mouth and spit it out, blood and spit and a white tooth landing on the floor. He felt dizzy from the impact and pain, and the shock of losing one of his teeth. It was one toward the side, one that would barely be noticeable for anyone other than him, but it hurt. “Oh, so you don’t like it when it happens to you?” Theon snarled, though it was painful to talk. He felt so angry, as if everything he’d been holding back while trying to be ‘good’ these past few months was washing over him all at once. 

All the hurt, all the betrayal, the fear and the humiliation- his pride was wounded terribly, not that he really cared much for his pride anymore. His body was wounded terribly. He was never allowed to talk back, not to Ramsay, not to any of the boys. And now he asked for Ramsay, and Skinner had refused to tell him anything about him. He’d had some stupid hope still hanging around because of Skinner, but then he’d been violently informed that Skinner was no better than the others. 

He had been so timid, so obedient, but it didn’t matter. Before he’d ran away, Ramsay would beat him for no reason- he let Damon whip him for no reason. It didn’t matter if he followed the rules. It didn’t matter, because they wanted to hurt him, they would always find excuses to hurt him. 

It was as if Skinner’s declaration had flipped a switch within him, the statement that it was all a game. If it was all part of a game, why hadn’t Ramsay killed him off like all his other playthings? Why hadn’t he hunted him? Theon spit out another mouthful of blood onto the floor, eyes clouded with hatred when he looked up at Skinner. “Not so fun, is it?” 

Skinner wiped the thin trail of blood from his cut, studying him. "You have no idea how shit works here. Don't presume to know thing-- I've been with Ramsay for six years, remember? I know. You know nothing, Theon Greyjoy." He looked him up and down in disgust, and scooped up the fallen water bottle. He squeezed Theon's mouth open, forcing in two of the oxycodone pills and chasing them down with water. He watched coldly as Theon choked and spluttered. "There's too much fight left in you," he spat. "I'll be sure to tell Ramsay."

“Tell him.” Theon snapped after he finished coughing. “What’s he gonna do? Beat me? Rape me? Flay me? What will he do that all of you bastards haven’t fucking done already?” 

"You haven't been hunted yet, kid," Skinner said warningly. "Don't push your luck. He's only going to tolerate you for so long."

“He loves me.” There wasn’t a single bit of doubt in his voice, but it began cracking when he spoke again. Ramsay didn’t just tolerate him. Ramsay loved him, he knew it. Skinner was lying to him. “Otherwise he’d have killed me by now. I-I love him, I asked for him, and you said no. He won’t kill me because I’m the only person who loves him, and you won’t let me see him!” 

"The only person who loves him," Skinner echoed mockingly. "Nobody truly loves him. Who would? Who could? You fear him... Anyways, what do you mean, I won't let you see him? If Ramsay wanted to see you, he would be down here, wouldn't he?"

Theon’s rage- his rush of confidence and adrenaline- was dying down fast. “I love him. Tell him to come see me! T-tell him I want him!” He was faltering, and he hated it. “I want him, I want my master, I-I...” He sobbed, hating himself for it, hating himself for breaking down so quickly. Skinner was lying. He had to be. Ramsay wanted him, he did, he was just upset with him and Theon hadn’t had the chance to make it better. 

"He only has you here because he didn't want you running off with Stark! He didn't want to get caught!" Skinner spat, getting in his face. "He doesn't care about you! He didn't tell me to come down here— he didn't come down! I came, and I brought you fuckin' oxycodone, and maybe it's just to keep the game going, maybe it's cause you're not boring like the others were, but it's hell of a lot more than he's doing for you right now! Be a little grateful!"

“I want my master!” Theon broke down in tears, closing his eyes and scooting back away from Skinner. “He-he loves me, and you don’t know anything about me! You just- you just play with me! You don’t care who I am! I want Ramsay!” He yearned for his Ramsay, his lover, but his master would do just as well. Even if his master was cruel, even if his master scared him. 

"I know that you're Theon Greyjoy. I know that you're painfully vain, and that's why Ramsay is having so much fun making you a dog. You met Ramsay at a party here, and he fucked you and you let him, even though you're in love with Robb Stark. I know that you don't love Ramsay like you tell yourself you do. You fear him, fear what he'll do to you if he finds out you're pretending. I know that you hate me," he said, and this he laughed at. "As if I'm the one who's trying to break you."

“No, no, no,” Theon whimpered, shaking his head. Skinner knew he loved Robb. He said it, when Theon was doing everything he could to not think about Robb, because he was sure he’d never see his best friend again. It was best to just love Ramsay, to forget about Robb- it was best because it made sure Robb didn’t get hurt. His heart, in reality, yearned for Robb- but he couldn’t have Robb, and he belonged to Ramsay. He had to love Ramsay, he had to give Ramsay his heart because he had to love something, and it only made sense that it would be his master. “Don’t- don’t talk about Robb.” 

"Why not? Don't want to think about his pretty blue eyes? Don't want to think about how you fucked yourself on that wolf's cock?" Skinner patted his dirty hair, much like he would with a dog. "Don't want to acknowledge that you finally look how you are? A bitch in heat, whining for cock, running from your master straight to the wolf's bed, hungry for more of his cock..." Skinner leaned in, licked along the shell of his ear, and nipped playfully. "He bred you first, remember? Ramsay did... Bred you like the filthy mutt whore you are, and you couldn't get enough so you went to Robb Stark, but he still wasn't enough so you made yourself Ramsay's bitch. We ought to throw you in the kennels with the rest of them."

“D-Don’t talk about Robb, don’t talk about Robb, he didn’t do anything.” Theon mumbled, shuddering and whimpering fearfully when Skinner’s teeth nipped at his skin. “Robb’s enough, he’s always been enough, he-“ Theon realized his mistake immediately after he said it and his eyes went wide with fear. “I-I mean Ramsay, I meant Ramsay- Ramsay’s m-more than enough, more than I deserve, he’s my master...” 

"You meant Robb," Skinner said, singsong. "I should tell your master, shouldn't it? It'd be the right thing to do, if you're having unfaithful thoughts..."

“No! No- Skinner, please, he’ll hurt me- he’ll hurt him!” His heart was pounding, voice higher than usual, desperate and shaky. “Please don’t tell him, please! I-I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be good, just don’t tell Ram- don’t tell my master!” 

"Whatever I want?" He took a step back, considering, his eyes raking over Theon's face, cutting him deep and leaving him bare. "And what is it you think I want?"

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Theon sobbed. Ramsay would hurt Robb, he knew it, he’d hurt Robb and it’d be all Theon’s fault and he felt sick to his stomach. “Skinner, please! I’ll- you can skin me, fuck me, I’ll suck you off- any... anything you want, just please don’t tell!” 

"Why would I want any of that? I've already had all of it." He looked away from him, almost disinterested now. "I don't think I've seen Ramsay jealous yet. That would be new. That would be exciting... wouldn't it?"

“No... please no...” Theon whimpered pathetically. “He’ll hurt Robb, Robb hasn’t done anything wrong. Please, Skinner. I’m- I’m sorry I threw that at you, it was stupid, I’m stupid, just please don’t tell Ramsay!” 

"You think I care about that?" Skinner scoffed. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't tell him— and no, fear of him getting hurt doesn't count, I don't give half a shit about that."

“I-I thought you cared. About me. You are- were- the nicest of the boys, and you seemed like m-maybe you weren’t a cruel, sadistic fuck... You talked to me, you- you were nice to me sometimes.” Theon stared down at the floor. “D-do you care? At all?” 

"Oh? You want me to keep quiet because I care?" Skinner tilted his head, watching him. "All right. You should have just said so. I won't tell him."

“Don’t tease me!” Theon whined. A simple no would have sufficed. He knew Skinner was just being an ass, that he didn’t mean it. “I was serious.” 

"What do you want from me?" Skinner snapped. "Want me to tell you flowery lies about how much I care and how I'm scared to help you? How I'm scared of Ramsay, just like you are? Want me to calm you down and sing you lullabies like your mommy did? Well, hate to break it to ya kid, but I don't do that shit," he said, and he spat on the floor at Theon's feet. "Find somebody else if you want a human band-aid. Go run crying to your precious Starks."

“How? I’m chained up.” His brain slowly processed everything Skinner said. Sing him lullabies, like his mommy did. It was funny to Theon, funny that Skinner would say that. His mother hadn’t spoken to him, much less sang to him, in years. Years. He giggled, tears still pouring down his cheeks. Skinner comforted him more than his mother ever had in the past decade, and Skinner had sliced his skin off his body. There was a pang in his heart. He already was worried for Robb, and now he thought of his mother, of Yara, and his sobs became weak, desperate, teary laughs. Flowery lies. That was something he’d never gotten from his family, that’s for sure. 

“I just want you to shut the fuck up about Robb.” Theon hiccuped, staring at the floor, shoulders slumped, shaking with sobs and pathetic laughter. 

If only his mother could see him now. Weak and helpless, maybe she’d recognize her little Theon now that he was vulnerable and small again- albeit in a completely different way. Would he be recognizable now that he was thinner? Now that the light was all but extinguished from his eyes? 

"Okay," Skinner shrugged. "We can talk about why you're laughing, then. What is it that I said that you found so funny?" He sat down on the floor, looking patiently at him. "Take your time, catch your breath. We have all day. Hell, you have the rest of your miserable life down here to tell me."

Theon hiccuped again, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes- not that it stopped the flow of tears, but it was at least an attempt. “Lullabies.” He answered simply. Lullabies. He could almost hear his mother’s voice, singing songs about the ocean and the sea, the feeling of sand beneath one’s feet and the sound of crashing waves on the shore. Almost. His mother’s voice was pathetic now, from the tiny bits he’d heard over the past few years. His heart ached as he thought of her, and he found it funny that he should be thinking of his mother. She was practically lifeless, an empty shell, and wasn’t that what he was becoming? Wasn’t that what the boys were trying to turn him into? Empty, obedient, helpless. 

"Lullabies?" Skinner echoed, face twisting. Really? This kid... "That's what you're crying about? Why?"

“That’s the- the literal last... last thing that c-could calm me. Though you-you’d sound b-better than my mom, since she never fuckin’ t-talks.” Theon’s words were broken up by little hiccups and sobs and laughs. 

"Your mother doesn't talk to you?" Skinner asked slowly. He wished Theon would stop crying. It was really, really annoying, and he couldn't staunch the need to make him stop. "Mine either, kid. Join the club."

Theon snorted. “My stupid fuck-fucking brothers had to run off to the- to the military, a-and fucking die.” He bit back a sob, but it was pointless. He was being noisy, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Had to fucking traum... traumatize my mother! Take her away f-from her other two kids! I fucking- I fucking hate them.” He did. He hated his two older brothers, and them being dead didn’t change the fact that they were always cruel and mean. 

"You hate them? Because they died?" Skinner asked dryly. "Hate to break it to ya, kid, but I don't think they exactly planned on doing that. You shouldn't hate your brothers for something out of their control," he said matter-of-factly. "As for your mother... She hasn't spoken to you since?"

“She-she asked where I w-was.” Theon looked up at Skinner with an unreadable expression, still crying but less now. “I was right in front of her. Right... right there, talking to her, and she goes, ‘Did you bring my little Theon?’ She asks- she asks me if I fucking brought me!” He laughed, but it was forced and full of hurt, and he didn’t quite know why he was telling Skinner these things. 

"Is she blind, or just crazy? Grief can do that to people," Skinner said sagely, as though he were a monk delivering divine advice unto human race. "My own mother, she just didn't give a rat's ass about me."

“That’s like Jon.” Theon was looking at Skinner, though he wasn’t really focusing on what he was seeing. “My mom loved me. I was her favorite. And then- and then my brothers went ahead and died... Little Theon, she called me, her darling boy, her baby boy. And- and then they died, and I was nothing.” His laughter had died out and his brows furrowed. His mom... Yara was alone, taking care of his mom alone, Alannys could die and he wouldn’t even know...

Skinner looked at him for a long while, nothing but beating silence between them. He stood up after a couple of minutes, picking the muzzle from the floor, and he slipped the bar gag back into Theon's mouth, and strapped the muzzle back on. He tugged the chain attached to the wrist cuffs, hooking it back to the ceiling, and picked up the bag. The metal water bottle and oxycodone were slipped safely back inside, and he pulled out the ointment, spreading it liberally on Theon's freshest wounds, including the patch where he himself had skinned him. 

He stepped away, taking in the sight of him; there was not a hint of pity in his eyes, but he didn't look all too pleased, either. "So your mother didn't sing you lullabies?" he asked. Theon's dripping eyes, round and tired, stared back at him. Skinner was silent for another long moment, then he opened his mouth. 

"It's always summer, under the sea  
I know, I know, oh oh oh  
The birds have scales, and the fish take wing  
I know, I know, oh oh oh  
The rain is dry, and the snow falls up  
I know, I know, oh oh oh  
The stones crack open, the water burns  
The shadows come to dance, my love  
The shadows come to play  
The shadows come to dance, my love  
The shadows come to stay..."

He sang in a gruff voice, far from melodical, but not exactly terrible. Theon looked back at him, wordless, and Skinner turned on his heel, clicking the lights off and shutting the door softly behind him.


	44. Chapter 44

Ramsay walked like he owned the place, striding up the path to the gray house, a dog flanking either side of him. He had barely crossed the threshold of the property before a grey dog was pelting across the lawn, barking its stupid mongrel head off, skidding in a rough circle around Ramsay and his girls, and looping back to snap at him. A white dog was streaking towards him as well, with two wolves running after it— well, a wolf, and a wolf mutt.

"Grey Wind! Ghost! Get back here!" the Young Wolf shouted, but his words faltered as he laid eyes on Ramsay, and Ramsay waved in cheery greeting. The wolf mutt beside him slowed to a jog, apprehension written all over his pretty face.

"Hello, wolfies!" Ramsay said brightly. "Care to explain why I saw your car outside my house yesterday?"

Jon swallowed thickly, glancing apprehensively over at Robb. They hadn’t thought Ramsay would notice- they were only parked there for a little while, and they’d heard Ramsay in the hallway talking about not going home after school. Sure, they hadn’t exactly checked to see if his car was in the garage, but...

“Um,” Jon said, remembering what Robb had told him about Ramsay’s ‘punishments.’ “We just thought we’d swing by and say hello, you know, since Theon left in such a rush the other day.”

"He left," Ramsay began, cocking his head. His dogs mirrored the action. "Because he didn't want to see you anymore. Just like last time. Will that message ever get through those thick skulls of yours? Or is stubbornness a Stark family trait? I hear your father was awfully stubborn as well... And look where it got him," Ramsay said, mock-pouting. "It'd be so sad to see you two go the same way, wouldn't it?"

"Bolton—" Robb snarled, already bristling. "You're trespassing, remember? Don't you dare come on to my property and threaten us like that! Don't you dare come on to my property and talk about my father like that!" He would have moved towards him, had it not been for the weight of Jon's hand on his arm, reassuring.

“You had no problem trespassing on my property. Or laying your hands on my property, for that matter.” Jealousy flashed across his expression, but it was gone as soon as it had came.

“Theon isn’t property.” Jon spat out without thinking, silently cursing himself. He was supposed to be the voice of reason, to stay calm and quiet and help Robb.

Robb couldn't exactly deny that, but the indication that Theon was Ramsay's property was absolutely infuriating. "That was different," Robb spat.

"How?" Ramsay asked quizzically. "Because you don't like me, so any action against me is justified?"

"You're keeping him prisoner!" Robb's hand clenched into a fist, aching to plant it in Ramsay's smug face.

“Then why did he run back to me, when he could’ve stayed with you, little wolf?”

“He was scared.” Jon had very quickly calmed himself. His voice was even, cold, and he was glaring at Ramsay.

"Why would he be scared?"

"Because he thought you would kill him, or us!" Robb retorted. Ramsay smirked.

"You have an awfully high opinion of yourself, wolfie. Why would I waste any energy on you?" he asked snidely.

"You're here, aren't you?" Robb pointed out. "And for all I know, Theon might be dead— did you kill him, Bolton?"

Ramsay laughed. “Kill him? No, no, that would be no fun. How would he scream if he were dead? How would he cry, and beg, and squirm?”

“You’re sick, Bolton.” Jon hissed.

"I've heard that before," Ramsay said dismissively. "Try to think of more creative insults, okay?"

"Bolton—" Robb began, taking a step towards him. The bigger of the two dogs—Helicent, Robb recalled—bared her teeth and growled, and at Robb's own side, Grey Wind did the same, staring Helicent down. "Bolton, don't you dare hurt him. Let him go."

“It’s a bit late for that, and we all know it.” Ramsay grinned. “Alas, you can’t do a single fucking thing about it. He came running back to me. He loves me, he begs for me. He cries for his master.”

Jon didn’t even have a response, he just stared at Ramsay in shock. How could he be so casual about it?

Robb swallowed thickly, feeling sick. His poor Thee... He didn't know what to do to get him away from Bolton, and much as he hated it and wanted to deny it, the way that Bolton was looking at him and Grey Wind was making him nervous.

"He doesn't love you," Robb insisted. "He's scared of you."

“Oh, he does. He says it, even when I’m not around. He tells my boys when they check on him.” Jon looked horrified at the mention of the boys, and Ramsay’s smirk grew. “Oh, Snow. Don’t worry. The boys wouldn’t do anything to him that I wouldn’t do myself.”

"So, what you're saying is that their only rule is to not set him free?" Robb said, the sick feeling worsening. "Have they raped him too, then?"

Ramsay laughed cruelly. “What do you think, Stark? One after another. Two at a time at one point, I think. My pet just can’t get enough cock.”

Jon’s hands curled into fists at his side and he took deep breaths, trying to control the urge to just grab Ramsay by the throat and kill him right then and there.

"I'm going to kill you," Robb said, calm encroaching his voice. He took a step towards him, and Helicent's muscles tensed; she sprang towards him, and Grey Wind leaped, bowling her over, barking madly. Ramsay eyed them both, one hand loosely holding Jez's collar, lest she join the action. Ghost prowled around them, ready to attack if needed.

"I wouldn't," Ramsay said coolly, "unless you want your precious mutt to lose his head today."

"Don't you dare," Robb hissed.

“Robb...” Jon looked over at his half brother, expression still angry, but there was worry in his eyes. “We don’t want the dogs to get hurt. We don’t want Theon to get hurt.”

“Again, too late for that.” Ramsay reminded them, eyeing the dogs carefully.

"Grey Wind," Robb called curtly. "Off." His dog retreated, back to his side, and after a moment Helicent did the same with her master. They hadn't exactly been fighting, but rather in a sort of stalemate; regardless, Grey Wind had a cut over his shoulder from Helicent's teeth, and Helicent was dripping blood from a torn muzzle.

“Give Theon back.” Jon looked back over to Ramsay. “Stop hurting him, and give him back. Please.”

Ramsay pretended to think on this. "Hm... No. No, I think I'll keep him. He's proven to be the most fun, if not the most frustrating of my toys so far. I quite like him."

"What will it take for you to do it, to let him go?" Robb asked.

“I’ll let him go once he’s rotting in the ground.” Ramsay’s voice suddenly went cold as he looked at the two Stark boys. “He’s mine. I’ve put in the work to break him. He’s not your Theon anymore.”

"He's not yours, either," Robb snapped. "And you haven't broken him. If you had, he wouldn't have run. He wouldn't have cried to me about how you treated him and how he was scared and he wanted to be home."

Ramsay’s eyes narrowed. So Theon had talked poorly of him. He’d suspected it, but Theon coming back to him so quickly had made him think maybe he hadn’t said much... “He was with you, and crying about wanting to be home? Why would he want to be home if he were already there? He was crying to come back to me, to his filthy little room in the basement.”

"He knew you would come after him! He was scared!" Robb shouted, hating Ramsay. "You think he loves you, think he wants to be with you? He only went back because he was terrified of what you would do if he didn't!"

“Be with me?” Ramsay sneered. “You say that like he and I are equals. He’s my desperate little pet, a filthy mutt, a bitch in heat. He’s nothing more than a dog- no, he’s less than a dog.”

"I didn't mean it relationship-wise, dumbass," Robb retorted snarkily, bristling again at Ramsay's words. "Physically-- why would he want to be near you?"

“He loves me. Loves my cock. He’ll do anything to get my approval, my praise.” Ramsay sneered. “And who else would want to touch him anymore? He’s been had by so many other men- and at the same time, too. It’s vile, really, disgusting. You should’ve seen him when the boys were done.” His expression twisted with disgust.

"Get the fuck off my property, now," Robb snarled. "I'll give you three fucking seconds, before I call the other dogs from the backyard."

“What, you don’t want to hear about what your precious Theon looks like now? All dressed up with his tail, ears, and his muzzle?” Ramsay did, however, take a step back.

Jon had to turn away. He felt sick, so sick, he couldn’t stand Ramsay saying all that shit about Theon.

Robb tensed. The muscles in his jaw twitched, like he so desperately wanted to lash at him. Grey Wind and Ghost were both pacing, ready, in waiting. "Nymeria!" Robb shouted. "Summer! Shaggydog!"

From behind the house, the dogs came loping, and their ears all perked as they caught sight of the confrontation, and their strides grew longer, moving faster across the lawn.

“Fuck.” Ramsay cursed, turning to bolt back to his car. He barely himself and the dogs in, Shaggydog having almost bitten him. The big black dog didn’t need orders, he went directly for Ramsay with bared teeth. There was a furious look on his face that twisted into a grin as cracked the window open. “Theon will be paying for that, little wolf. Oh, and if I ever see you on my property again, I’m calling the cops.” He turned on the car and peeled out of the driveway, luckily not hitting any of the wolf dogs on the way.

Jon looked at Robb, worried and hurt and upset. “He’s going to go back and beat Theon.”

"He's threatening to call the cops? I'll call the cops..." Robb muttered, all too aware of that fact. "Mom's friends with Officer Tarth-- I'll talk to her, make her go back... Come on, boys! Nymeria, come on, girl, he's gone now."

“Robb, he’s going to go hurt Theon!” Jon repeated, more urgently now, as if they could do anything about it. “The cops won’t do anything, you have the note! That’s proof that Theon left of his own accord! And- and if they go, and Theon wants to stay, then Ramsay will hurt him the second they leave.”

"So I won't show them the damn note! This is... I can't leave him there! I can't let him stay there, I have to do something, Jon!" Robb said fervently. "And why would he want to stay? He's there because he's scared. If he gets out again, he'll stay out."

“He’s not stupid, Robb. He’d make Theon presentable and have Theon lie and say he wanted to stay, and then he’d beat him senseless.” Jon took a long, deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"I can't sit here and do nothing," he said weakly. "Tell me what to do, Jon, please, because I don't know."

“Let’s just... let’s go inside and talk, okay? We don’t want to get ourselves or Theon hurt.”

"Yeah," Robb agreed, and they gathered up the dogs and went inside.

* * *

The Stark house was set at the end of North Street, on an expansive property of seventeen acres, stretching into the surrounding forests. It was in those forests that Arya and Sansa had found their dead father, and it was from those forests that a man now skulked, skirting along the border of the trees, watching the swaths of lawn for any sign of a watchful wolfdog. The lights were on inside; he could see glimpses of their family dinner through the sheer curtains of the dining room windows.

There were no dogs, outside anyways, and he crossed the yard, sticking to the shadows lest the moonlight glint off of one of the many long blades hitched on his belt. He slunk alongside the house, climbing the steps of the small front porch, and opened the door. They hadn't even locked it; he snickered at the though and snuck inside, through the entryway and into the hall. To his right was the kitchen, and here he saw a dozing dog, lithe and pale gray with a white face and chest, front legs splayed out before her. She lifted her head as he passed, spotted him, and started. She rose nimbly to her feet and barked loudly, dashing for him. He grabbed her by the pink collar, and the silly white ribbon-flower tore off as he flung her against the wall; she collided with a sharp yelp, her skull thunking against the wall, and she slid to the floor and didn't move again.

He scoffed. Too easy... Where were the more challenging beasts?

The girl now was coming out of the dining room, no doubt drawn by the sound of her beast's cry, and when she saw him the color drained from her pretty young face.

"Hello," he purred. She opened and closed her mouth, stammered briefly, and then her gaze fell to her motionless mutt and tears filled her eyes.

"N-no..." she choked out. "Lady--" She spun on her heel, dashed back into the dining room, and a second later, the Young Wolf was emerging, his own beast at his heels, and the expression on his face was priceless. The mother came with him, and he drew his favorite blade.

"Ilyn Payne!" she gasped, grabbing her son and shoving him behind her.

"That's right," he said, grinning, as he moved in.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're sorry :(

Bodies. Headless, bloody, mutilated bodies, sat in chairs along one side of a long wooden table. Below the table, the corpses of wolves, headless like their owners. Theon couldn’t move, he was frozen to his chair- the only chair in the room, a massive room, one that looked fit for a wedding or a feast. A man he didn’t recognize walked up behind the table, holding a wolf’s head in his hands.

Theon tried to scream as the man in his dream began to sing. “... and who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low...?”

He watched, unable to make a sound as the man placed the wolf’s head atop the neck of one of the bodies in the center. The man stitched it messily, his own fingers bloody and skinned, but he did not wince even a single time. He just kept singing the song, over and over.

“The Young Wolf!” The man announced, and suddenly Theon felt a weight on his lap. He looked down to see Robb Stark’s head, those soft auburn curls and those sweet blue eyes. He wanted the head gone, he wanted all this to be gone, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream.

He felt fingers tangled in his hair and his head was wrenched up, forced to look at the long table by an unknown person standing behind him. He wanted to cry but his eyes were dry and he made not a sound, his heart aching and pounding, gut twisting as the singing man reached into the shadows and returned with a white wolf’s head. This one he did not sew on, but rather, he lifted up an arrow and speared it though the skull. Theon didn’t know how, but it went all the way through and stuck into the neck of the body below it.

“The Bastard Of Winterfell!” The man proclaimed. Theon would’ve vomited if he could as he felt weight added to his lap. His head was released, and his gaze fell to see Jon’s head in his lap. He only had a moment to look at it before his head was pulled back up, but it was long enough for the image to burn into his head.

The man, still singing, still unrecognizable, pulled out a small grey wolf’s head. He sewed it onto another of the bodies, petite and in a silky gown, but the stitches were much more careful this time, small and precise. It took so long, too long, and a crown of small white flowers was placed atop the wolf’s head after.

Theon knew what was coming next, and he didn’t want to see it, not at all, but the brilliant red hair draped over his lap and bright blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling were shown to him anyway, head lying alongside the other two.

No, please no, he wanted to yell, to scream, to do anything, but he could not. The man continued singing that same damned song over and over again as he pulled out another head, moving to a small but strong body. He procured a fencing sword, balancing the head atop the shoulders and spearing the sword down, through the wolf and into the body.

This time he was forced to look at his hand, at the brown hair clutched in his fist and the head hanging from it, the confident smirk it always held now long gone. He couldn’t loosen his grip, couldn’t drop it, could only try to ignore the feel of the hair as he was made to look at the table once more.

Bran’s head appeared in his other hand once the man had secured Summer’s head to his body, using jagged shards of what must have been a ruined car door. There were so many pieces of metal, and it was messy work, difficult to secure the wolf’s head to the boy’s neck. Little Rickon’s head rolled up at his feet once the man had put Shaggydog’s head atop his body, too heavy to stay up. The man sewed it, stabbed in pins and needles, then finally stabbed an arrow through the wolf’s skull like Jon’s. It still wobbled atop the tiny body, but it stayed.

Theon hadn’t noticed before, but at each end of the table was one of the Stark parents. Ned’s head was on a wooden spike protruding from the ground, staring at Theon in disappointment. Catelyn’s throat was slit so deep he could see bone, bleeding profusely, and yet she stared at him too.

The man stopped singing.

“This is your fault.” Catelyn croaked. “My children. Robb. It is your fault, Theon.”

He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t shake his head or beg forgiveness. Ned just stared at him, the head lifeless and unmoving but still staring, still so disappointed.

“Robb is dead, and it’s all your fault.”

He looked away from Catelyn and suddenly the table was empty, all corpses gone except for Robb. Those yellow wolf eyes stared at him, and the room went dark, nothing left but him and this monstrous creation. Even the man from before was gone, the singing man nowhere to be seen.

Grey Wind’s mouth opened slowly and in a terrible, scraping voice, one that hurt his ears, the head of the wolf sang.

“But now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear.”

 

* * *

 

Theon woke up screaming Robb’s name, even with the metal gag in his mouth he was trying, trying to beg for Robb, tears streaming down his cheeks. His whole body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he was shaking terribly.

It was just a dream, of course it was. He was so stupid, it made no sense otherwise, and yet... he’d been terrified.

"You always wake with his name on your lips," Ramsay said in disgust. He stood before Theon, looking down at him, eyes rich with disappointment. "Why is that?"

He reached out, cradling Theon's face with a deceptively gentle touch, brushing his thumb under Theon's eyes to catch the dripping tears. "Poor puppy," he hummed. "Why does the pup cry now?"

Theon whimpered, not exactly able to reply. He couldn’t lie or apologize, couldn’t beg for forgiveness, and he couldn’t stop crying. His master was finally here, finally, after so many long days without him, and he came at the worst possible time. Theon leaned into the gentle touch, looking sadly into those icy blue eyes.

"You miss him, don't you?" Ramsay asked softly. "Guess what? I have something to tell you... I think you'll like it, you filthy, unfaithful mutt."

Theon whined, trying to say “Master” with the gag in his mouth. He’d waited so long for his master to come see him. So long, and now his master would be mad at him for his nightmares.

"He misses you too," Ramsay hissed, as though it were a huge secret. "Can you believe that? He misses you, and he threatened me to let you go! Isn't that sweet, pup?"

Theon trembled, remembering those golden wolf eyes and those dead blue eyes in his dream. No, no, he didn’t want to think about Robb, not now, not with his master here. He tried to say it again, a pathetic muffled attempt, looking pleadingly at his master.

"You want to know more? Okay," Ramsay said. "Well, he and the bastard Snow are both very worried about you. They seem to think that you didn't want to come back, that you only did it out of fear! Isn't that absurd?" He laughed, mirthless and cold. "I told them what a good pup you are."

Theon nodded quickly, agreeing, wishing Ramsay would let him down and take off the gag and muzzle so he could beg for his master, tell him how much he loved him, so he could be held. He longed for Ramsay’s arms around him, hands softly stroking his hair.

"But Robb," Ramsay continued loudly. "He didn't seem to get it. The Young Wolf, of course... you can't get anything through his thick skull. He kept saying that you didn't love me, that you were scared and you wanted to go home. He thinks your home is with him." Ramsay turned and fixed Theon in an icy glare. "He's wrong. You don't have a home, pup. You belong to me, and you belong wherever I want you to be."

Theon nodded again, frantically, as if to say yes, of course, his place was with his master, always with his master. He whimpered, squirming a bit at the way Ramsay looked at him. It made him uncomfortable, it was as if Ramsay could see straight into his soul.

"I wish I could tell you I have faith in you. I do wish I could free you again, but you understand why I can't. You're a bad dog, Theon. Bad dogs can't be trusted." He rested a hand on Theon's muzzle, patting it as though Theon actually had a snout in there.

“Master,” Theon tried again, and again, whining in annoyance when he was unable to make the word sound right with the gag on.

"You want to talk, little puppy? What could a bad dog possibly have to say to his master?" But Ramsay took the muzzle off anyways, slipped out the gag, and watched him.

Theon gasped in relief, face flushed and voice a bit hoarse. “Master... I-I love you, I missed you, I-I asked Skinner for you and... and he wouldn’t bring you, a-and I missed you...” He trailed off with a sad little sob, his lower lip trembling.

"He told me you did," Ramsay said disparagingly. "Pup, do you have an idea of how long ago that was?"

“I don’t- I don’t know!” Theon squirmed. “I- I just want you, I missed you, and you- you wouldn’t come, and he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t get you!”

"It's been three days since then," Ramsay said, talking over him. "Do you remember what you did, when he visited? Bad dog..."

Theon suddenly still, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I-I... I...” He was overcome by fear instead of longing, eyes going wide. “You came to punish me...” He mumbled, voice shaking.

"Do you think you deserve punishment?" Ramsay asked, staring neutrally at him and supressing a grin.

Theon just nodded, too broken to defend himself. “I was bad, I- I was a bad pup, Master, I was bad.” A sob caught in his throat and instead he let out a pathetic whimper.

"You want me to punish you?" he crooned, stepping closer. "Pup thinks his master is angry with him?"

“I deserve it.” Theon tried to blink back his tears, but they kept running down his cheeks. “I was bad, master, I-I’m so sorry I was bad...”

Ramsay stroked his cheek, smiling softly, and with his other hand he drew that metal water bottle from the pocket of his jacket. "It's been three days," he reiterated, "since you've had more than a sip to drink. Surely you're thirsty?"

“Am- am I allowed?” There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I- only if it’s okay, I don’t need it...” He was parched, but he wasn’t going to be bad again, no, he was going to be good for his master, he wouldn’t be greedy.

He got his answer when Ramsay unscrewed the cap and held the mouth of the bottle to Theon's lips, letting him drink sips at a time. "That's it..." he coaxed, "slow, okay?"

Theon drank slowly just as his master said, looking adoringly at Ramsay as he did, almost worshipful, relieved to finally be drinking water.

He didn't pull the bottle away until Theon had drank his fill, and he screwed the top back on, slipping it back into his pocket.

"You're hungry, too?" He looked him up and down. "You're wasting away, pup. How can you still hold yourself up?" But Ramsay didn't make any move to let down the chain, merely blinked and surveyed him.

“I-I’ll be okay. Just missed you, Master, I-I’m just so happy your back...” Theon was hungry, he was, but the water was enough to keep him full for now, he supposed, he didn’t need food.

"You haven't eaten in four days," he reminded him, "and you're telling me you're not hungry? You're not so desperate for food, you're salivating at the thought of it? Don't lie to me— dogs are all the same."

“I am... I am hungry, but I don’t need it.” Theon shifted uncomfortably, arms screaming in pain.

"Don't lie to me," Ramsay snarled. "I hate lying mongrels. You're so hungry you feel as though you're about to pass out, aren't you? You've never been this hungry before in your miserable life."

Theon flinched violently, startled by the sudden change in tone. “I am! I’m starving, Master, I feel- I feel sick and tired a-and it hurts, but I don’t- I don’t need it!”

"Do you want it?" Ramsay snapped. "You're tired? You're hurting? It's your own damn fault, whelp. Who decided to run away? Who broke his master's trust?"

“I did, I-I know, I’m bad, I don’t deserve my master, b-but I love you and-and I missed you! I missed you!” Theon’s crying has worsened and he was almost back to sobbing now, just wanting Ramsay’s arms around him.

"Quit your crying!" Ramsay snapped, and he stormed from the room, leaving Theon alone for one heartrending moment, staring after him, at the blank door Ramsay had disappeared behind.

Theon tried to stop crying, he did, but Ramsay leaving only made it worse. His master had been gone for so long, and now he was leaving him again, and Theon didn’t know when he’d be back. He was on the brink of a complete breakdown, trembling and crying and trying to calm his ragged breathing. His master would be so mad- his master was mad, and he wouldn’t want to come back if he was crying, he wouldn’t want him, and the thoughts only made it worse.

The door cracked open, a sliver of light casting through, splitting Theon's face, and Ramsay reappeared, bearing a plastic cup with an absolutely revolting concoction of blended foods, a muddled brownish green color, with a pink bendy straw poking through it, leaning against the side of the cup.

Theon felt stupid when Ramsay came back only minutes later, but it helped him to calm down a bit, getting his breathing back under control rather quickly. “M-master, Master, I missed you, please...”

Ramsay observed his teary face, but the lack of fresh tear tracks with pleasure. "Good pup," he praised. "I brought you lunch, see?" He held the straw to Theon's lips for him to take a sip.

Theon took a sip and immediately gagged but forced it down anyway. “What- master, what is that?”

"It's your favorite," he said slowly. "Mutton, with green beans. It took a very long time to blend it smooth enough to drink— I had to put a bit of milk in, too."

Theon did not want to drink it, not at all- it smelled disgusting and tasted worse. He didn’t want to be ungrateful, but if he drank it, he thought he might throw up. He took another sip and forced it down, stomach churning.

"You don't look too happy," Ramsay remarked, smirking to himself. "Does it not taste good? You don't like what your master made for you?"

“N-no- I mean yes- I mean...” Theon gagged after taking another sip, he couldn’t help it, he’d be lucky if he didn’t vomit. “T-thank you master...”

"You do like it?" he asked, pulling the straw away from him. He offered him the rim of the cup instead, so he could take larger sips, and his lips were a thin line of amusement.

Theon took a deep, shaky breath, trying to take another sip, trying to make his master happy, but he lost it the immediately after he swallowed. He turned his head to the side the second he realized what was gonna happen, making sure he didn’t puke on Ramsay. It was horrible, standing upright, unable to hunch over as he emptied the contents of his stomach. All of the disgusting concoction, all of the water he’d drank, it all left him and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t look at Ramsay once he was done, hanging his head and staring at the floor. Ramsay would be so mad. So mad. He was so ungrateful. His voice was shaky and weak when he spoke. “I-I’m sorry- I’m sorry...”

Ramsay scowled down at the mess, a tick going in his jaw, and then glared at Theon. In one swift movement, he unhooked the chain and dropped Theon to his knees in front of the puddle of sick.

"Clean it up," he ordered, rage in every syllable.

“W-What?” Theon looked up at him, eyes wide. He had to be kidding. He couldn’t actually want... could he?

"You're a dog, aren't you? Clean it up." He grabbed Theon by the collar, tugging him none too gently to face the vomit.

“I- Master?” Theon’s eyes were wide with horror. “How- I-I- Master?” He was trembling again now, not sure what to do.

"You are a dog, aren't you?" he said again, sharper and crueler this time. "How do you think dogs clean up their messes?"

“Um- their masters do- with paper towels?” Theon tried.

Ramsay twitched, angry, and grabbed him by the collar again, forcing his head down until his nose was barely an inch from the mess. "Guess again," he said coldly.

Theon pulled back against Ramsay’s hand, the smell making him feel sick again. “No, no, I- I can’t- I can’t, please.”

"You do as your master says," Ramsay snapped, "and master says to clean up your fucking mess."

The tears were back, prickling in Theon’s eyes. He tried, he really did, sticking out his tongue to try and clean it up, but he instantly gagged and had to pull himself away, wrenching out of Ramsay’s grip with a pained whine as the collar yanked hard at his throat.

"What's the matter, mutt? Don't want to obey your master?" He snatched the collar again, yanking the chain of it and holding Theon's head over the vomit. "Whining because your dear Wolf wouldn't make you do this?"

“Please, Master, please!” Theon begged, feeling sick and humiliated and hurt. “I’m sorry, I’m- I’m sorry for being so ungrateful! I’m sorry!”

"Do you miss him, little bitch?" Ramsay went on, ignoring his pleas. He pushed Theon's face down a little more. "You can whine and cry and call me 'master' all you want, I know the truth. I know you wish it was him, using you like this. You want Stark to fuck you like I do, want to be the needy hole for his dirty wolf cock. Gods, you'd probably even take his mutt's prick, if he wanted you to, wouldn't you?" Ramsay said in disgust, rage spilling out of him.

“N-no- no!” Theon practically shouted, squirming against Ramsay’s hold on him. “No, Master, only you, only- only you! I only want you, a-and your cock, and- and anything you want!”

"Yeah? Well I want you—" he shoved his nose in it now, fully losing patience, "—to clean up your fucking mess!"

Theon sobbed, closing his eyes and keeping his mouth tightly shut, just waiting for Ramsay to let go, to let him lift his head. He did his best to hold his breath, trying not to have to smell it. He was trembling, knees digging into the hard floor.

"I'm not leaving until you've licked up every last drop," Ramsay said softly. "And when you have, I'll fuck you, and you'll scream my name this time, not Stark's."

Theon couldn’t hold his breath forever, and resigned himself to licking it up, gagging and trying hard to keep it down. Tears streamed down his face and he kept almost throwing back up, only to force himself to swallow it back down. It took a long time to do, and he was trembling violently by the time he finished, still trying hard to keep it down.

"Good boy," Ramsay said, releasing his collar and letting Theon collapse, choking, to the floor. He moved behind him, tugging at the tail plug, contemplating.

"Think you can fit both?" he asked.

Theon mewled as Ramsay pulled at the tail, unable to help it as the plug shifted and pulled inside him. He whimpered and and hid his face against his arms.

“I-if you want.” Theon answered meekly, although the thought alone made him ache. It reminded him of when the boys took him, two at a time, and that terrible, sharp pain.

Ramsay stroked his cock until he was hard enough, lubed himself up with his own spit, and he took him, again and again until he was satisfied. He left him as though disgusted, bleeding around the tail plug, gag and muzzle back in place and chained back to the ceiling.

He dropped the cup into the kitchen sink, and his gaze fell onto the mess on the kitchen counter. He had made Theon's lunch two hours or so earlier, and had never cleaned it up. He dutifully got to work rinsing out the blender and all the little chunks of food stuck in it, and when he was done, he gathered up the empty cans of dog food from the counter with a wry smirk, dropping them in the garbage on his way out.

Theon could feel the come and blood oozing out around the plug, drying on his thighs. He cried when Ramsay left, sobbing at the pain in his ass and the taste of vomit and metal in his mouth. His master came, used him, and left. He’d taken him down to force him to clean his own vomit and to rape him. And now he hurt, aching with the plug inside him and wanting so badly to try to push it out, but not wanting to make Ramsay mad. He couldn’t risk it. He just stared sadly at the door, hoping his master would come back soon.

* * *

  
They had it on more for background noise than anything else, but Ramsay came bursting through the door around five that night, elation on his face and four of the girls on leashes. He released them, sent them off, and dashed into the living room, confronting his lounging Boys.

"Turn on the news," he ordered, and Luton hustled to comply. On the screen, the generically pretty blonde newscaster was reporting a break in. He seized the remote and turned it up, and all conversation in the room stilled. Ramsay watched excitedly, itching for her to get to the good part, and as she did, he turned to face them all joyously. They all looked back at him, grins dawning on their faces.

"Ilyn Payne!" Ramsay cried, praising, and the Boys all echoed him. Without further ado, Ramsay was bounding off towards the basement stairs. He had some news to share with his pet.

Ramsay's never announced his arrival, but today he hummed, loudly, as he approached Theon's door, a slow and morose song, and he belted out the final lyrics of the song—"Now the rains weep o'er his halls, and not a soul to hear, ooh..."—before he entered. He didn't laugh when Theon flinched away from the sudden wash of bright light, and instead put on a solemn face as he removed first the muzzle, then the gag, and finally unhooked him from the ceiling. Ramsay crouched beside Theon as he collapsed, weak and shaking, with a ghost of sympathy on his face. He handed Theon a water bottle.

"Hey, pup," he said. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

The song, it sounded so familiar, it sounded like it was from his dream... he looked weakly up at Ramsay, holding the water bottle in the both hands, if only to keep him occupied. “Master...” He mumbled, wanting more than anything to be held in his arms and to nuzzle his face against his chest. “What- What is it?”

"I was just walking a few of my girls past the Stark house, a little while ago... You do remember the Starks, right?" He grinned to himself, but masked it swiftly with a heavy frown. "Poor, tragic family, really," he simpered. "First they lose Ned, and now..."

Theon’s eyes widened slowly, slowly, and he felt his heart rate speeding up. “M-master, what happened?”

"He hadn't been in school for a couple of days, but I never thought..." Ramsay trailed off, purposely meandering in his telling. "Ilyn Payne broke into the Stark house the other night," he said, looking closely at Theon, watching for a reaction. "Poor Robb... Killed so young, and so brutally! He must have died thinking you abandoned him."

“No...” Theon whispered, so soft, barely audible. No, it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Not Robb, Robb couldn’t die, he was so young and kind and handsome, and how could Theon ever live in a world without Robb Stark? He tightened his grip on the water bottle, still staring at Ramsay. “No, he... no...”

Ramsay's face twitched, and he lost the battle against his own amusement. A twisted grin stole over his lips and laughter bubbled up.

"Long live the Young Wolf!" Ramsay tipped his head back, mock howling, and rose to his feet with another bout of sick laughter. "Imagine how his ugly bitch mother must have screamed, losing her eldest son so cruelly, and so soon after her dear husband! But don't worry— I hear Payne sent his mutt along right behind him! Too bad he didn't take my suggestion, hm? Swap the heads, and what interesting artwork it would make!"

No, no, no. Theon’s head was spinning. No. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t, it couldn’t, but if it were a lie, why was his heart breaking so? He felt as if a knife had been driven into his chest. He didn’t want to imagine it, Robb lifeless and cold. He wanted Robb safe, it was all he’d wanted, he’d loved Robb all his life... he was speechless, just staring at Ramsay in shock. It just couldn’t be true. Not his Robb, not the Robb he’d always known, the Robb he’d always loved.

Ramsay was walking away, a spring in his step, as though Theon's world wasn't crashing down around him. He paused suddenly in the doorway. "Oh, and..." He turned back, hand dipping into his pocket. "I almost forgot..."

Forgot? What could he forget? Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon? What could make this any worse?

"One of my girls, Kyra? Remember her?" Ramsay asked, knowing full well that she had been Theon's favorite of his girls. He plastered an expression of immense guilt on his face. "She got away from me. It's awfully hard, walking four dogs that size... Well, when I caught up to her..." He drew something out of his pocket, something small and pink and spattered with blood, and he examined it. Theon couldn't quite see it, no matter how hard he strained to do so. "Kyra had gotten a tad carried away, I think. I'm afraid I was too late to save her, but I was able to save this for you."

He tossed it to Theon's feet, the bitten, ruined little collar, and the bloody heart-shaped tag read 'Queenie'.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve changed so we update every weekday just not weekends.  
> Also.  
> A Lot of y’all are really mad at us. There’s another? 39 chapters? It gets better. We’re a little past halfway through the story, there’s still a LOT left to happen. All these chapters are already and have for a while already been written.

Robb. Grey Wind. Queenie. Robb. Grey Wind. Queenie. Ned. Robb. Grey Wind. Queenie. Maron. Rodrik. Ned. Robb. Grey Wind. Queenie. Dead.

Robb.

Queenie.

He sat there, alone in the silent darkness, staring blankly at the little pink collar held in his hands. His back was rested against the pole, finally down from the hook, but he didn’t even care for that. He felt empty, as if the heart in his chest had been torn away.

He still couldn’t believe what Ramsay told him. Robb was dead- he couldn’t be, Ramsay had to be lying- but Ramsay wouldn’t lie to him. No, Ramsay loved him, he’d only lie if it was to keep Theon safe. He wouldn’t lie about Robb, no, Ramsay hated any mention at all of Robb. It had to be true.

Theon whimpered softly, wishing that Ramsay would just come down to see him. At that point he didn’t even care if it was to beat him, he just wanted Ramsay, his Ramsay. If he could, he’d crawl up the stairs and pound on the basement door, beg for his lover to come back for him. He wanted his master, he needed his master, he needed his strong arms and the warm scent of pine and cinnamon, needed to be held and kissed and comforted. He knew better than to believe that would happen.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, and he couldn’t remember if or how much he cried. He curled his hand into a fist around the bloody little collar, holding it tight, trying to remember how soft his little puppy’s fur felt when he held her in his arms, how gentle and happy her little yips and kisses were. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

On the other side of the door, Skinner stood quietly, contemplating whether he really wanted to go in or not. He could hear the soft sobs from inside the room; those stopped ages ago now, but he still wasn't quite sure he wanted to face the kid, crying over his dead dog's collar. He knew Ramsay had let him down, left him with only the collar chain, but he wasn't sure if Ramsay had put the gag and muzzle back on him. From the sound of it, he hadn't-- he didn't understand why, but he suspected it was so they had the music of his cries to listen to. A fruitless ploy, for the boy had quit his wailing mere hours after Ramsay had told him; now, they listened to silence and soft sniffles. That being said, he really didn't want to see the kid all teary and snot-nosed.

"Hey, kid," he said, hand on the knob. "Ya still crying, or am I safe to come in?"

Theon sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and making a small, soft, affirmative sound.

Skinner breathed in relief and stepped in, eyeing him warily as he approached, as though he thought he might begin sobbing again at any moment.

Once Skinner was close enough, once Skinner had crouched down next to him, Theon practically threw himself at the man, wrapping his arms around him. He just wanted a hug, and Ramsay wouldn’t give him one, and Skinner didn’t hurt him- well, he did, but it was different from the others.

At the touch, Skinner stiffened, almost horrified. "Uh...? Wha--" But Theon had buried his face in Skinner's shirt, his dirty fingers clutching at the soft fabric, and Skinner didn't know what to do other than let the kid do what he wished-- besides, gods forbid he do the wrong thing and the kid started crying again.

Theon tightened his arms around him, sniffling softly. “My puppy is dead.” He whimpered, muffled a bit by the fabric of Skinner’s shirt. “Robb is dead.”

"Yes," Skinner agreed, intensely uncomfortable. "I've heard. Ramsay has been gloating about it for two days now."

Theon let out a high whine and burst into tears again at the mention of his master, at the fact that his master thought it was a good thing, that his master reveled in his despair. The grip of his fists on Skinner’s shirt tightened as the tears began leaking from his eyes, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

Skinner flinched back in a mix of horror and disgust, desperate to get away from Theon's tears and his clinging touch, but like a stubborn child, Theon wouldn't let go. "You're leaking," Skinner exclaimed. "Get off me!"

“I’m sad!” Theon wailed, not getting off him.

"We're all sad," he retorted, pushing at him to no avail. "Welcome to life. Fun, ain't it? People die, dogs die, it happens."

“I’m sad and everything hurts and I want to go home!” Theon sobbed. He wanted Robb, Robb was home, but Robb was dead and Queenie was dead and he was so, so sad.

"You are home. Ramsay is home, now, remember? I'm pretty sure he told you that. Besides, there's nothing left for you at the Stark house. You think Catelyn Stark would want you there now, after everything?"

“Sansa.” Theon whimpered, the first Stark that came to mind. She’d care about him. She’d be there for him, and he could be there for her. They’d always gotten along well enough. Thinking about Sansa made his heart ache. How sad must all the stark kids be, with no father and no big brother? Jon was moved out, and he himself was... gone.

"Sansa?" Skinner echoed, confused. He had given up on trying to get Theon off of him—the kid was worse than one of Roose's leeches, he swore—and resigned himself to his fate. "The girl? What about her?"

“She’d want me there.” Theon insisted, relaxing a little now that Skinner wasn’t trying to push him off.

“Skinner? I thought you were coming to shut him up, we can all hear the bitch crying from up- oh.” Damon’s lips twisted up into a smirk as he saw Skinner on the floor with Theon clinging to him, practically on his lap. “What’re you doing with the filthy bitch, Skinner?”

"Comforting him, apparently," Skinner replied, glancing up at Damon. "You may have heard, but he's sad."

Theon whined into Skinner’s shirt when Damon laughed, cheeks flushing. He was sad, he was very sad, he missed home and his puppy and Robb.

“I thought you’d make better use of having a squirming mutt on your lap.” Damon said with a shrug, kneeling down beside the both of them, taunting Theon. “Poor, sad little puppy.”

"He's sad because of his puppy," Skinner corrected, "right, kid?" To Damon, he said, "I guess some people get worked up about it, more than others. Remember Ramsay when he lost one?"

“Oh yeah. How many girls did we end up hunting that week? Gods, Rams was fucking bloodthirsty.” Damon reached out, twirling a limp, greasy curl of Theon’s hair around his finger. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to do much with this mutt right now either. He’s filthy. Ramsay’s little freak.”

Theon tried to block it out, as if closing his eyes and hiding his face would stop him from hearing them, but Damon kept playing with his hair, and it made him sick. It reminded him of Robb playing with his hair when he was bored, of Ramsay gently stroking his hair when they used to cuddle, of Sansa brushing and braiding his hair because she wanted to practice. “Sansa.” He whimpered softly, trying to think of something else, but now her bright red hair was taking up the pictures in his mind and all he could think of was her smile, her kind and gentle nature, and he was terrified. Was she okay? Were the other Starks okay? Ramsay hadn’t said.

Skinner glanced down sharply. Was the kid stupid? Did he have no regard for those people he claimed to miss, to care about? Bandying about with how much he missed the Young Wolf was one thing, but to mention by name the girl—in front of Damon, who relished in the hunt as much as Ramsay did—was completely stupid.

Damon’s blue eyes lit up with a wicked sort of boyish delight. “What was that you said, little bitch? Was that a name? Who were you talking about? Hey- get off of Skinner, you slut-“ He yanked at Theon, pulling him hard by the hair and causing him to fall hard onto his ass on the floor. He leered down at him, obviously entertained by his trembling.

“N-nothing, I didn’t say nothing...” Theon mumbled, glancing back and forth from Damon to Skinner.

"Can't go back now, kid," Skinner said, shaking his head. Stupid, stupid kid... was there a brain somewhere under that thick skull? He doubted it. "Lying is a habit of yours, hm? Ya think you'd be better at it, for how much you do it."

Damon sat down fully and pulled a reluctant Theon onto his lap, not caring that the chain connected to his collar was straining. “Tell me, bitch. Who’s name did you cry? Who are you crying for now?”

Theon was uncomfortable now, staring at Skinner with wide eyes, feeling Damon’s chest pressed against his back and his arms wrapped around his middle. “No one, I didn’t say anyone’s name!”

Skinner gazed back at him, expressionless. He hated that desperation in Theon's green eyes— what did he expect him to do, anyways? Save him? Gods forbid... He looked away, and almost walked away entirely, but refrained. If someone wasn't there to supervise Damon, he was bound to get carried away, and as annoying as the kid was, he didn't want to see him torn to shreds just yet. He still had some fight left, still had some spunk... Skinner wanted to see how long they could drag that out.

Damon leaned in, nipping at the shell of Theon’s ear, breath hot against his skin. “You’d better tell me, little bitch, or you’ll be in big trouble with me and your master, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?” One of his hands traveled down to Theon’s thigh, pinching at the sensitive skin and making him yelp.

“S-Stark, I said Stark, for Robb, I-I- Robb is dead, and...” Theon trailed off, still staring desperately at Skinner.

"No, you didn't," Skinner said curtly. "What did I tell you about lying, kid? You're no good at it. Don't bother." He paced around Damon, giving Theon a sideways glance. "You're not going to gain anything by trying to keep it from him. He'll never let you go, until you tell him."

“Tell me the truth.” Damon’s voice lowered to a dangerous pitch, although his smirk didn’t falter for a second. “Or I’ll snap your cock off with my whip, and you can explain to your master why it’s laying on the floor.”

Theon shuddered at the mental imagery. He didn’t want to tell Damon, he didn’t, but Skinner hadn’t helped him at all. What else could he do? Damon’s hands were on his chest and his thighs and he just wanted him to let go. “Sansa.” He whispered, regretting it instantly. If anything happened to her... if anything had already happened to her...

Skinner looked coldly at Theon. Stupid kid, brainless whelp... Why would he ever mention her, if he wanted to protect her? Foolish... Foolish to ever want to protect anybody, when all anybody ever got was hurt. It was easier to let it go and participate, to keep his head above water and save his own ass. That's what Skinner always did, anyways, and always had done. He wondered how long it would take before Theon caught on to the way things were done. He was already taking much longer than any of the others had.

"Now, Damon," he drawled, "whatever will you do, now that you know?"

“Why, I’ll tell Ramsay, of course.” Damon winked at Skinner from over the top of Theon’s head. “Maybe he’ll let us go for a little hunt?”

“No!” Theon exclaimed, going to stand up, but Damon’s grip on him was too strong. “No, don’t- don’t touch her.”

Skinner gave Theon the kind of uncaring look that said 'what can you do?'.

"I don't think she would be a very fun hunt," Skinner remarked. "Annoying, more likely, it she cries half as much as him," he said, nodding towards Theon.

“I don’t know, I kind of like his crying. I wish you were a bit nosier yourself, actually.” He wiggled his eyebrows, giving Theon’s thigh a friendly pat. “Hey, little pet. What do you think about us fucking your dead wolf’s sister?”

“You wouldn’t.” Theon said, but his voice was small, weak, and he didn’t doubt that they’d actually do it.

"She probably wouldn't put up a great fight," Skinner pointed out, "with her brother having died just the other day. She's probably still in shock." His tongue traced over his bottom lip, contemplating. "She'd be easy."

“N-no, leave her be, just fuck me instead, just leave her be!” Theon’s eyes were wide and Damon laughed, loud and highly amused.

“We could fuck you anyway, mutt. You don’t have to offer.”

"Damon doesn't like to be bored," Skinner said, "and you're getting there, kid. Somebody new, fresh— how long do you think it would take to break her?" he asked, crouching down beside Theon.

“No- no- don’t go near her, please...” Theon begged, and he found his gaze darting desperately around the room in search of something to hit one or both of them with. If he could knock them out, make them forget he’d ever mentioned Sansa...

Skinner's hand clasped over Theon's thin wrist, and he found himself being pulled from Damon's lap onto the floor. "What are you looking for?" he asked quietly. "If you want a weapon, you're out of luck, and if you just don't want to look at us, well... Guess what. You're out of luck."

Theon’s expression slowly morphed from worry to anger. “I don’t need a weapon to hurt you.”

Damon practically howled with laughter. “Oh Skinner, he really is fun. He might be the dumbest one Ramsay’s had yet.”

"No? Sorry, kid, no water bottles today," Skinner teased, leaning over him. The chain on Theon's collar was fallen over his chest, curling over the floor to the base of the pole. Skinner seized it.

Theon eyed it warily, still glaring at Skinner. “I-I have hands. I could- I could claw your eyes out, if I wanted.”

"Yeah? Just try it," Skinner said, staring down at him. "You don't want to do that, not when I could snap your pretty neck with one hard pull of this chain."

“Oh but Skinner, it’s not even that pretty anymore.” Damon fake pouted. “Poor little Theon, you used to be such a pretty, pretty thing, didn’t you?”

The words hurt, and Theon was reminded of the fact that his body was truly beyond repair, covered in nasty scars and bruises. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Rams- Master- He’d kill you. I’m his pet. You-you can’t kill me.” He insisted, though the fear was obvious in his expression, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"You think he values you more than us?" Skinner said arrogantly. "We have been his for six years... We are infinitely more valuable than some cheap toy who won't break."

“He loves me!” Theon insisted. He wanted Ramsay. He wanted his master. The presence of Damon and Skinner just made him want Ramsay more.

"Sure he does... The same anybody would love their favorite bitch. Nothing more, nothing less." Skinner looked coldly down at him. "Whining for him is annoying. He's not going to come until he wants to."

“It’s cute.” Damon argued playfully. “Little puppy misses his master. Are you gonna cry again? Cry until your master comes?”

Theon considered it, just to spite them, but decided Ramsay would not be happy with them. “I want him here. Not you.”

"He's been in a good mood ever since your Young Wolf died," Skinner said. "If you really want him, he just might decide to visit... and he might fuck you gentler."

He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up straighter. The last time Ramsay fucked him it had hurt terribly- mostly because he didn’t even bother taking out the plug. Thinking about it reminded him of the plug, which he was pretty used to right now, and he grimaced at the reminder. “I just- I just want him to visit. Just a visit.”

"I don't think you get a say, kid. If Ramsay wants it, he takes it. Last time was with the plug, yeah?"

Damon laughed when Theon shifted again, wincing at the reminder. When Theon spoke again, his voice was weaker, a bit more sad and much less defiant. “Yeah... it was. That- that really hurt.”

"He'll do it again," Skinner said casually. "Maybe not today, but sometime. With the mood he's in, he might just take it out this time, if you want me to go get him."

He nodded, slowly. “I-I want him.”

“Slut.” Damon sneered, grinning widely. “Slutty, slutty little puppy.”

“That- that’s not why! I just miss him!” Theon looked sadly over to Skinner. “Can you- can you get him?”

Skinner regarded him for a moment, one eyebrow raised. "...Fine," he said finally, and left the room, heading off upstairs.

"Ramsay," he said, stepping into the living room. "He's asking for you."

"Is he?" Ramsay looked pleased at the prospect, and he doubled his vigor in stroking Kyra. "I'll be sure to pay him a visit, later. He's probably hungry," he added, grinning. "I'll make him something."

He rose from the armchair, leading Skinner out into the kitchen. Ramsay opened a cabinet, taking out two cans of wet dog food, the cheap kind that the Dreadfort sold in its gas station half. Skinner looked on, apathetic, as Ramsay dumped the slop into the blender and poured a splash of milk in with it. Ramsay stood and blended it painstakingly until it was thin and runny enough to drink through the straw, which Ramsay placed carefully in the glass.

"Does he know it's dog food?" Skinner asked, staring in disgust at the concoction.

"No," Ramsay replied, shrugging. "He's already thrown it up once— getting him to clean that up was an ordeal." He laughed at the memory. "He doesn't need to know." He headed off towards the basement stairs, but Skinner didn't immediately follow. Ramsay glanced back over his shoulder. "Are you coming back down?"

"No," Skinner said shortly. "I've had enough of him for the day. Have fun, Ramsay."

Ramsay grinned back at him and stepped lightly down the stairs, careful not to jostle the glass, lest he spill a drop.

Damon had stood back up and was playing with the chain attached to Theon’s collar, tugging and jostling it while Theon whined and helplessly tried to make him stop. It was uncomfortable, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Damon finally fucking let go. “Hey, Rams. Come to fuck your greedy pup?”

“Master!” Theon exclaimed, not listening to Damon once he saw Ramsay. He moved closer to him, only to scoot back when he noticed the glass in Ramsay’s hand.

"Are you hungry, pup?" Ramsay asked sweetly, crouching down before Theon and offering him the glass. "It's pork, today." His gaze trailed past Theon to Damon, and they shared an amused look.

“I missed you.” Theon murmured, purposely ignoring the question. “Master...” He wanted to crawl onto Ramsay’s lap, to wrap his arms around him and nuzzle his face against the nape of his neck.

"You've been crying," Ramsay said, observing Theon's red-rimmed eyes. "It's been two days— why are you still crying over Stark?"

“I-I-“ Theon stammered, trying to think of what to say, but Damon stopped him from having to say anything.

“There’s a new Stark he’s been crying about. What was her name again, Theon? Sansa?”

"Sansa?" Ramsay said thoughtfully. He took Theon's chin and lifted his face to look into his eyes. "What about her, pup? What about Sansa Stark?"

No. Theon wanted to scream, he wanted to yell at Damon and tear out his throat. He was terrified. Skinner hearing about Sansa was one thing, but Ramsay... “I- I just- I was just thinking about how she- how she used to braid my hair, and...” he trailed off.

"And? And what?" Ramsay set the glass down and sat back, looking displeased. "I thought your Stark problem was solved."

“I was just thinking about it, th-that’s all, I promise!” Theon’s eyes went wide.

“Oh Rams, don’t get angry with him. It gave Skinner and I a lovely idea when he spoke her name.” Damon had a wicked look in his eyes that made Theon’s gut twist with dread and guilt.

"Oh, yeah? And what is that lovely idea?" Ramsay inquired without breaking the contact with Theon.

“I thought it would be fun to hunt her, to give her a good fucking, but Skinner worried she’ll cry too much. Gods knows this one does.” Damon reached out to pat Theon’s shoulder and he flinched away.

“No! You can’t- you- you can’t- Master!” He whined, crawling onto Ramsay’s lap. “Please, p-please don’t let them.”

"That would be fun, wouldn't it?" Ramsay said, smiling at the thought. "But don't worry, pup, I don't let them do things like that... They're allowed to make their own decisions."

Theon nuzzled his face against the nape of Ramsay’s neck, relaxing a little before his brain registered what was said. He lifted his head a bit and looked back up into Ramsay’s eyes. “W-Wait- Wait- What?”

“It means we don’t need his permission, slutty pup.” Damon purred.

"They are their own people," Ramsay said with amusement, "sometimes. They like to play, just like anybody else."

“Please tell them not to.” Theon whimpered, pouting up at him, looking every bit the filthy, pathetic puppy that they kept accusing him of being.

"Damon," Ramsay said flatly, lifting his gaze to his old friend. "Don't."

Damon snorted, standing up. “Yeah, yeah. You really told me.” He looked smugly down at Theon. “I’m gonna go back upstairs. Have fun with your puppy.”

Theon whimpered as Damon left the room, trying to scoot impossibly closer to Ramsay. If he kept begging about Sansa, he knew Ramsay would be mad- Ramsay might even want to hurt her more because of it. “Master...”

"What's the matter, pup?" He patted Theon's head patronizingly. "Why don't you drink? You'll feel better if you're not hungry."

“I just want you.” Theon murmured honestly, relaxing at the soft pat. “I love you.”

"Yes, I know you do. Little pup, don't let this go to waste," Ramsay warned, indicating the glass. "Or else you won't eat again."

Theon frowned. His master hadn’t said ‘I love you’ back. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t said it back in a while. “I-I will, but can I- can I ask you something first?”

"You can ask me after you take a sip," Ramsay said, holding the straw to his lips.

Theon held his breath so he wouldn’t have to smell it and took a sip of the liquid, which was an absolutely foul consistency, and forced it down. It was a little easier when he didn’t have to smell the disgusting mixture, but the texture alone made it feel like he was cleaning up his own vomit again. He looked back at his master, waiting for permission to ask.

"Good pup," Ramsay praised, eyeing the brown liquid with a smirk. "Go ahead, now. Ask."

“Do you still love me?” Theon’s eyes were wide, still rimmed pink from his earlier crying.

"Of course I do," Ramsay murmured, stroking his filthy hair like he would a dog. "You're my good, sweet pup... You made a mistake and you're paying for it, but why wouldn't I love you anymore?"

“You just haven’t... haven’t said it lately.” Theon’s face flushed pink and he felt his heart flutter in his chest, tiny smile playing on his lips. “I-I’m sorry I’m bad sometimes. I just wanna make you happy.”

Ramsay took Theon's face in his hands, gently squishing his cheeks and looking deep into his eyes. "I love you, little pup," he said. "You are mine. Never forget that."

Theon felt happier than he had in a long while, his lopsided little smile widening as he looked at his master. His master, who loved him. “Yours.” Theon repeated, wanting nothing more than to kiss him but knowing better than to try.

"Mine," Ramsay agreed. "Stark tried to make you his, and look where it got him?" He patted his head once more, handing him the glass and waiting for him to drink again before he turned away, tidying up the room. He bent down to pick up the little collar, turning it over in his hands.

"You don't need this anymore, right pup? It's not as though you have a use for it."

Theon trembled a little at the sight of Queenie’s little pink collar. “N-no. I don’t- I don’t need it.” He didn’t like this, no, he liked sitting on his masters lap and being praised, having his hair stroked and his head pat and being looked at like a precious object. He didn’t like thinking about... dead things.

"You look like you want it," Ramsay said, frowning down at him. "Give me your hand," he ordered, and Theon did. He wrapped the little collar around Theon's bony wrist, mindful of the heavy cuffs, and buckled it. "There you go, pup. Always with you now, hm?"

Theon looked at it and quickly looked away in favor of looking back up at Ramsay. “I- I wish you were. Al- always with me, I mean.”

"I am," he said sharply. "Do you think I ever really leave you? You're never alone here."

Theon startled a little and looked down. “I- I just mean... I miss sleeping with you, a-and having you hold me, and I- I know I don’t deserve it, because I’m... because I’m bad, but I miss it.”

"You shouldn't have run away," Ramsay snapped, devoid of sympathy. "You ran away for one last night in the Young Wolf's arms... Did you know, then? Did you know it would be the last time you would ever see him?"

Theon’s heart felt as if it’d been stomped on. Ramsay had been being so nice, so kind and gentle, and now... “I-I’m sorry for running, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have, I love you a-and now you can’t trust me be-because I’m bad. I’m never running again, I promise, I-I just- I’m just stupid.” His breathing was growing more frantic as he continued to talk, and tears were starting to well up in his eyes again. He wouldn’t think about Robb, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t think about those soft auburn curls and those brilliant blue eyes.

"Oh, sweet pup, I know you won't. There's nowhere for you to run to now... Robb Stark is dead," he said cruelly, face twisting in amusement. "His corpse is rotting underground, just like his father's."

“R-Rams- Master- I miss you...” Theon whimpered, trying to do anything but think about Robb. Anything but those eyes and his strong arms and how warm his body always was. “I j-just want you- I just want you, no one else. I-I just wanna be held again a-and I’m bad and I’m sorry!”

"You are bad," he said coldly. "No matter how hard you try, you can never be good again, not in my eyes. Should have stayed with your wolf, hm? Maybe you could have died for him. You wouldn't do that for me, would you, pup?"

“I’d do anything for you!” Theon blurted out, tears dripping down his cheeks. “I- I would, I’d do an-anything! I’ll do anything! I-I love you, not him, I-I’m not his, I’m yours, always yours! Just you!”

He could never be good again. His master would never see him as good. He’d always be bad, a bad pet, a bad toy, kept in a dark room because he was too bad to be seen, and he couldn’t help but sob as he thought of it. Ramsay was right. He should’ve died for Robb, should have died with Robb, should’ve been buried six feet underground where no one would have to deal with him being a rotten little pet.

"You are mine," Ramsay affirmed, stroking his dirty cheek. "Always mine, until the day you die, little pup."

Theon leaned into the touch, although he was shaken up and crying. “Can- Master- can I just have a-a hug? Please?” His voice was weak, and small.

"No," Ramsay said, drawing back immediately. "You're filthy, you reek... You're crying over Robb Stark... Why would I want you touching me? You want a hug? I want a better pet," he said harshly, backing away from him. He cast him one long, disgusted look and snatched up the relatively untouched glass (he would freeze it and thaw it for the next meal), storming out of Theon's little room and slamming the door behind him.

Theon just stared after him, heart broken into little pieces. He hurt, he’d just wanted his master, just wanted to see his master, and now he’d messed up everything again and he didn’t even know what he did. One minute Ramsay was looking to his eyes and telling him he loved him, the next he was telling him how much he couldn’t stand him. Theon couldn’t help it when he began to sob. He was crying so much lately, he was shocked there was enough fluid in his body for it. A better pet. He wasn’t good enough. He was bad, he was so bad, such a bad pet, he didn’t deserve Ramsay. He found himself clawing at his thighs in an attempt to ground himself, to calm himself down, but it did nothing except make him panic more. It was dark and he hurt inside and out and he could feel blood caking under his nails as he clawed at his skin.

He felt like he couldn’t breath, like a hand was clenched around his lungs, crushing them in a fist as he sobbed. He was bad. He was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. He was so lucky his master kept him, because he didn’t deserve it, he was such a terrible pet and he deserved to die. He was overwhelmed by self loathing and panic and he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. He itched and ached and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them so he’d stop clawing at his thighs.

He’d been getting thinner, weaker, but he thought he’d been being good, or at least trying, but his master didn’t want him. His master said he loved him, but how could he love him when Theon was such a filthy, ugly, bad little pet? His master was so strong and kind and handsome, he smelled of pine and cinnamon and sometimes dog, and Theon smelled of vomit and sweat and filth. His hair was greasy and dirty and his thighs were constantly covered in dried blood and come, his skin littered with ugly scars and scans. Of course his master didn’t want him, it only made sense. He wasn’t worthy of his master.

His sobs were loud, agonized, but he could barely hear them as he gasped for breath and trembled, shaking like a leaf as he hid his face against his knees.

He hadn’t even really noticed before, he’d been sitting in the same room so long, covered in his own filth, but he did smell terrible. It wasn’t like Ramsay let him shower. He hadn’t even left the basement in so long. He reeked. His tears flowed more freely from his eyes at the thought. He was so disgusting, so filthy and worthless. He didn’t deserve Ramsay’s attention. He didn’t deserve so much kindness. He felt sick. He reeked.

Weak. Meek. Freak. Bleak. Sneak. Shriek. Reek.

Reek.

Reek.

Reek.

He reeked.

How did Ramsay tolerate him?

He let out a hoarse, pained sob. Ramsay was so kind to him, so gentle, caring for him even when he was filthy and disgusting. Oh how Theon wished for Ramsay to come back down to him, if only so he could throw himself at the bastard’s feet and thank him until his voice was too weak to continue. Weak. He repeated the word in his head. Weak, weak, weak. It rhymed with reek. He sobbed loudly again.

A freak, the boys had called him. Freak. Freak! And a sneak, he’d tried to escape, he’d snuck out, that’s why the boys had punished him. A sneak. Sneak, freak, weak, reek. Reek.

When they’d hurt him, he’d screamed, sobbed, shrieked. Shriek! And then he’d just laid there and taken it when it became too much for him to keep fighting, like a meek little mouse. Meek. Meek, shriek, sneak, freak, weak, reek.

His mind raced to think of more. Bleak! He was bleak, boring, his food was bleak, the basement was bleak. Perfect.

Bleak. Meek. Shriek. Sneak. Freak. Weak.

Reek.

Reek.

Reek.

Reek, reek, reek, reek, reek, reek, reek, reek, reek.

“Reek.” He whispered to himself, trembling and shaking and clutching his knees to his chest. “Reek. I reek. I’m weak. freak. Sneak. Shriek. Meek. Bleak. Reek. Reek, reek, reek.” He repeated the word over and over, some sick and nonsensical comfort. At least he could hear a voice, even if it were only his own. He almost laughed at that. “Freak!” That was him, a freak, babbling to himself.

He rocked back and forth, staring out into the darkness of his room in the basement. His eyes were so wide, looked even wider now that he was practically being starved. “Weak.” He looked down at himself, barely able to see. He was so pale. “Weak, bleak, reek. Bleak. Reek, reek, it rhymes with bleak. Weak. Freak.”

Theon occupied himself with his own thoughts and whispers for a long time.

“Reek, reek, reek. Weak, meek, bleak, sneak, shriek, freak, reek. Reek, reek, reek.”

He should’ve died with Robb Stark. At least corpses had an excuse for reeking. He wondered a bit, at this point, what was the difference between a rotting, reeking corpse and him.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone yelling at us: there is a stark chapter coming next week. If you’re That angry and antsy to find out what’s going on there, wait until then.

The stone was cold, obsolete gray, and Catelyn kneeled at its base, hands fisting at her skirt. Tears streamed in thin rivulets down her pale cheeks, eyes bloodshot from crying. She stared up at the engravings, tracing his name on her lips, shaking as they were, and thought that she could never miss somebody more than she was missing him, in this moment. The clouds, the sky, the trees... They were all empty, gray, dead. There were pretty flowers on the grave, from whom she did not know, and they were no longer soft and white but stiff and near-frozen, and her fingers brushed over the petals, desperate for some semblance of calm and beauty in this breathless, desolate void.

Too soon, too soon, it was all too soon, he was gone far too soon... She wanted him back, needed him back; Catelyn longed to claw at the dirt, break her fingernails and dig her way down and sleep, cold in the earth with him, but her son's small hand was on her shoulder, trembling and fragile, and she clutched it to her, and in that moment, he was her anchor.

Little Rickon fell against her, tears streaming down his round cheeks. "I miss him," he sobbed, and she pulled him in, hugging him close.

"I know, baby," she murmured. "So do I." She wished she could soothe her boy, console him and promise to him that everything would be all right, but she didn't know if they could ever be 'all right' again.

* * *

 

"Hey, pup," Ramsay called, knocking on the door to Theon's room. "You awake? I have a surprise for you... I think you'll really like it," he continued tantalizingly.

“Yes.” Theon replied softly, weakly. He wasn’t sure how long it’s been since someone had last visited- since someone last fed him. It could be hours or days- he spent most of his time either crying or sleeping, so he wasn’t sure. Even when he was awake, he couldn’t keep track of time. He’d one time tried counting seconds, but lost track after a couple hundred and just ended up frustrated. He was tired, so tired- he wasn’t sure how, as he slept all the time, but he was.

Ramsay pushed the door open, but didn't come in right away. He stood framed in the doorway, looking off to the side, coaxing somebody along. There was a patter of paws, toenails clicking on the cold basement floor, and Kyra appeared at his heels.

"I know you've been missing your pup, little pup," Ramsay began, grinning, "so I brought one to visit! I figured I could show you just how well-trained she is now!"

Theon looked over to Kyra, wishing she was still the little puppy she used to be, that she’d come kiss and cuddle him, but he knew better. “Master, I’m- I’m so tired...”

"Nobody ever said you couldn't sleep," Ramsay pointed out. "Kyra, why don't you go say hi?" He clicked his tongue and she padded further into the room, all tense, wiry muscles and glaring eyes. "She's almost as good as Heli," Ramsay said proudly.

“I do sleep, I’m- I’m always sleeping.” Theon stammered, watching Kyra with wide eyes. “H-hi Kyra, hi girl.” He held out his hand toward her.

She looked up at her master as though asking permission, and he nodded her forward, smirking.

"Go on, Kyra, go say hi." He looked over at Theon. "Want to see how smart she is? She's a good girl, she does whatever I ask."

“Good girl...” Theon murmured, moving closer to her as his collar would allow. “Can I... can I pet you? Can I pet her?”

"Kyra," Ramsay said, kneeling beside her, one hand on her head. He looked straight at Theon as he said, "Hunt."

She stalked towards him like a black shadow, defiled only by the splash of white on her chest, head lowered and hackles raised. She donned a new collar, a heavy leather material vastly different from the soft cloth of her old training collar. Dark amber eyes trailed his fleeting movements as he inched backwards, away from her again, and every step was slow and deliberate, taunting; she had her prey cornered, and she knew it. She growled softly, pulling her lips back.

Theon whimpered, back against the pole to which he was chained. “Kyra, girl, it’s me- it’s- it’s just me.”

"Kyra." Ramsay said sharply, his voice like icy daggers. "Rip."

She let out a booming bark and lunged, all white fangs and slavering jaws; her paws knocked Theon back so his head thudded to the floor, her teeth coming centimeters from his throat.

"Halt!"

Her breath was hot and damp on his skin, but she halted, and waited for further command with her teeth barely grazing his throat. Amber eyes glared madly down at him, no recognition in them, only a fierce, driving desire to please her master.

There were tears in his eyes and his heart was pounding, racing. He reached out, carefully stroking the top of her soft, fuzzy head. “C’mon, girl, please don’t- please don’t be like this.”

She growled again, pulling away from his touch. Ramsay came up beside her, placed on hand on her back, stroking her hackles smooth.

"Down," Ramsay said now, softly. Kyra relaxed instantaneously, her tail rising to wag eagerly, and she pressed her wet nose to Theon's cheek, sniffing happily. She licked him once, twice, and sniffed down his naked chest, pushing her face into his chest and leaning into him, obviously seeking pets.

“That’s better.” Theon murmured, a small smile growing on his face as he pet her. He wrapped his arms around her, appreciating her soft, fuzzy warmth. She licked his cheek and he laughed, heart aching at the memory of his own puppy. Kyra was better than nothing, though, and now that she was being affectionate, Theon felt a bit better.

"Kyra, come," Ramsay said, and she slipped from Theon's arms and trotted back to Ramsay's side, pressing against his legs. He patted her briefly. "Isn't she a good girl? With some work, you might be as good," he said.

His smile vanished the second she walked away. “You- you said that n-no matter how hard I try, y-you’d never see me as good again.” His voice was soft, quiet, as if he were scared to say it- which he was.

"Maybe not," Ramsay agreed, gazing down at him, "but you can try, can't you? Try to be a good boy."

“I... I do. I do try.” Theon looked back up at him. The bright greenish blue of his eyes seemed to be fading more and more each day, as the bags grew bigger and darker underneath them.

"I heard you crying again," Ramsay told him, eyes narrowing. "I heard you crying last night, and the night before... Care to tell me why you're still crying about Robb Stark?"

“No- not Robb- Queenie.” Theon half- lied, quickly shifting his gaze back down to the floor.

"When did her name change to Robb?" Ramsay tipped his head, staring hawkishly down at him. "'Robb, I'm sorry...'" he mocked. "'Robb, I miss you...'"

“I-I’m sorry- I’m just so lonely a-and tired, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” Theon shivered, hugging his knees to his chest.

"What's it going to take for you to stop dreaming about him?" Ramsay asked, his hand on Kyra's collar as he knelt down. "He's dead, little pup. He's not coming back."

“You. You staying down here with me.” Theon tried, looking into his master’s eyes.

"I will," Ramsay said, looking carefully at him, "never. You need to learn to behave, remember?"

“I’m lonely!” Theon whined.

"You have your dog with you, remember?" Ramsay pointed to the bloody little collar on Theon's wrist, still bearing Kyra's teeth marks.

“I want- I want you!” Theon pleaded, reaching out to take hold of Ramsay’s hand. He was startled by the sight of just how small his hand was in comparison to Ramsay’s, smaller than it used to be, bonier, the veins showing more under his pale skin than they ever had before.

"You're getting thin," Ramsay observed, catching his wrist and pulling Theon forward so he fell across his lap. "Light, too... Yet you keep telling me you're not hungry."

“I’m okay.” Theon murmured, happy for the physical contact. Ramsay felt so warm, so strong, he didn’t even care if it hurt a little when he pulled at him.

Ramsay stood, lifting Theon with him, and took the wrist cuffs in hand. He attached the chain to them, hooking him back to the ceiling. On the floor near his feet was the metal bar gag, and beside that, the muzzle. He picked them up, not caring to dust off the gag before he turned to Theon, holding it up.

Theon whimpered quietly, looking down at Ramsay with his eyes wide and sad. He just wanted to be held, that was all, just wanted Ramsay’s arms wrapped around him. From how he was hung up, the way his arms stretched up, putting his whole body on display, his ribs were clearly visible. They were sticking out a bit through his skin, and while he’d always been skinny before, he looked almost sickly now, tired and weak and dependent on his master.

Ramsay slipped the gag into Theon's mouth, and strapped the muzzle on. He kissed the nose of the muzzle, eyes falling shut.

"I know you try," he said. "You try to be good. You try to please your master. Poor little pet... Try not to cry all night, won't you? Master won't be happy if you do."

Theon wanted Ramsay to kiss him, not that stupid metal dog thing, and he whined loudly, high-pitched and pathetic.

"Be good, and I'll visit again soon." Ramsay patted Theon's head and, without so much as a goodbye, led Kyra out the door and left Theon in the dark. She trotted ahead of him up the stairs, bounding though the doorway and bursting into the kitchen. Skinner and Damon were sat on stools at the counter, munching on a bowl of pretzels. Kyra bumbled around them, her wagging tail thumping against the cabinetry with a series of dull thunks.

"You two are home early," Ramsay remarked.

“We had stuff we wanted to do.” Damon purred, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Skinner before looking back over to Ramsay. “How was your dumb slut doing today?”

"Yeah?" Ramsay looked between them, smirking. "It's... The little pup won't quit crying, and it tried to deny that it was crying over Stark. Tried to tell me it was over its dog." Ramsay patted Kyra's head, giving them both a significant look.

“Just knock its teeth out and be done with it.” Damon shrugged, tossing a pretzel in his mouth. “You’re being too patient with the bitch.”

"I'm waiting for it to break," Ramsay said, sighing. "But it is taking too long... Why don't you guys have some fun? Find a girl, we can have a hunt... Maybe bring it along this time, let it watch."

Damon laughed brightly. “If you’re bored of it, let us hunt the damn thing. It’s so loud and annoying and it smells bad, wouldn’t it be easier to just let the girls have at it? The fucker is basically becoming a bag of bones anyway.”

Ramsay pulled up a stool and sat down, snatching a pretzel from the bowl and crunching it. "At this point, it's almost a matter of pride. I don't want to leave it unfinished."

"So don't," Skinner said. He took a pretzel and turned it over in his hands, examining it out of sheer boredom, before he bit it in half. "Try something different. He reacted like this over Stark... Make something else happen."

"Maybe..."

“The girl. The Stark girl, the one who braided its hair.” Damon’s was quite visibly amused. “Let us fuck her. All of us. Get all the boys together.”

Ramsay appeared to consider. "I did tell it," he began, "that I didn't control what you boys did. You don't need my permission... If you want to, go ahead. It could be fun."

"We don't even need to touch her," Skinner reasoned. "Just tell him that we did. He's in a bad enough state that he'll believe it."

Damon sighed loudly, over dramatically. “Oh, I suppose. But then I have to find someone else to fuck. It’s been so long since the last hunt.” He held a hand to his forehead, as if he were a damsel in distress.

"We will have one," Ramsay promised. "And we'll bring it along with us, so it can see. Just find a suitable prey."

"When will you tell him?" Skinner asked, leaning forward.

"Oh, two days? I'll let it stew for a few days."

“You plan on leaving it down there alone? The bitch is gonna piss itself.” Damon wrinkled his nose but couldn’t help snickering again.

"It gets bathroom breaks," Ramsay shrugged.

"I usually let him down twice a day," Skinner explained. "I haven't had to, since he's been down, but.."

"And if it makes a mess..." Ramsay pulled a face. "It'll regret it."

“Are you gonna let it down?” Damon threw a few pretzels in his mouth. “I don’t know if your bitch deserves the attention.”

"I won't," Ramsay said. "It deserves whatever attention I give it, and nothing more... It won't come down again, except to piss, until it learns how to behave and stops crying for Stark all night."

“You might have to cut out its tongue before that happens.” There was a dangerous glint in Damon’s eyes that suggested he’d be happy to help with that.

"If it comes to that," Ramsay said sharply, a warning glint in his eyes, "I assure you, I will be the one to do it. This doesn't end until that mutt is broken and serving its master." Ramsay took one last pretzel, rising from his stool and storming from the room. Kyra whined, laying down on the floor by Skinner and Damon's stools, looking forlornly after her master.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you get angry with us, make sure you read Skinner’s dialogue last chapter

“Seven fucking hells.” Ramsay snapped. Theon had been crying all fucking night again. He and the boys were just trying to have a nice breakfast, some French toast and bacon and eggs, but Theon’s constant wailing was really getting in the way. 

“That gag is useless.” Damon huffed. The crying amused him, but even he was growing sick of it. “Isn’t it about time to tell him we raped the little Stark bitch? I’m bored of this ‘I’m lonely’ shit.” 

"Yeah," Ramsay sighed, wiping his syrupy fingers off on a napkin and rising from his stool. "I'll be back in a bit."

He tore open the basement door, stomping downstairs so he knew Theon could hear his heavy footfalls on the wooden steps, and threw open the door to Theon's room. "I told you," he snapped, "to quit your fucking wailing. Do you remember that?"

Theon went quiet mid-sob, sniffling and looking at his master as he opened the door. He was bad, he knew it, he shouldn’t be crying, but everything hurt and it was dark, and he was so lonely. 

"Oh, little pup," Ramsay crooned. "Don't look so sad. You have to pee, right pup? Here..." He let down his chain, freeing him to move as far as the collar chain would allow, and while Theon made haste for the toilet, Ramsay set to work removing the muzzle and gag. 

"I'll have to get a better gag," Ramsay said thoughtfully, "if this isn't enough."

Theon’s eyes went wide at that and he protested the second the gag was out of his mouth. “N-no- no, I’ll be quieter, I’m good, I’m-I’m your good pup.” 

"The more you tell me that, the less I believe you." Ramsay tossed them aside, the metal clattering over the floor, and allotted Theon a minute of feigned privacy, turning away until he heard the dingy toilet flush. "Come, pup, sit down. I have news for you."

Theon moved to sit in front of Ramsay, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He looked even worse than he had the last time Ramsay visited, the exhaustion showing on his features. He felt so fatigued, like he could barely bring himself to sit up fully. 

Ramsay grabbed him by the shoulder, steadying him so he leaned back against the pole. He didn't want his pet falling over on him, no matter how uncomfortable it was for him to sit with that tail on. 

"Remember how you told Damon about Sansa Stark?" he began.

“Oh no...” Theon moaned softly, eyelids heavy. He felt so tired all the time, and now that he was sitting on the floor, he felt himself drifting off. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was bad, but he was just so sore and so tired...

"Stay awake, pup," Ramsay said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. "He brought the Boys with him, when he visited her... I'm sure you can imagine what happened?"

“N-no... no...” He prayed to the Drowned God that Ramsay wasn’t going to say what he thought he was gonna. “W-What did they do?” 

"They had fun, of course. You do remember how much fun they had with you? Thing is, they get bored of their toys so fast, and, well... You practically offered her up."

No... no... Theon squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. 

He could imagine it, he could, because he’d been in the same situation before, and it made him feel sick. He remembered how the Boys were when they’d ganged up on him. Brutal, cruel, not only raping him but beating and mocking him the whole time. 

“Why?” Theon whimpered. He didn’t have it in him to sob anymore, he was so dehydrated, so tired. He was shaking, now looking up at Ramsay with wide eyes. “She didn’t do anything, Rams, why?” 

Poor little Sansa, so sweet and loving and pretty. He hated thinking about it. He could only imagine what the Boys had done to her. 

“You did this to her.” Ramsay said coldly, looking down at him with no emotion in his eyes. “If you would just be obedient, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Theon’s stomach twisted and he gagged, dry-heaving violently, but there was nothing in his stomach to come out. 

“I heard she was quite a good fuck. Not too feisty either, the boys didn’t have a problem. Not like they did with you.” His voice was sharp and accusing. “They told me she cried and cried and cried, but didn’t fight. It’s a good thing they went for her and not Arya. I hear Arya is quite the feisty little lady.”

“She’s a child!” Theon sobbed, no tears coming out of his eyes but his shoulders were shaking and he was choking on his own despair. “So is Sansa! She’s a child!” 

“She’s old enough.” Ramsay shrugged. “Apparently she was a virgin. Made quite a bloody mess. They had to beat her for that.”

“That’s not her fault!” 

“Oh, but it is. Who knows? Maybe one of my Boys even got her pregnant. They don’t really care for protection.” 

He sounded so smug, so amused, and Theon hid his face against his knees and screamed. He was hugging his legs to his chest as he so often did nowadays, as if it would somehow make him smaller, maybe even invisible, as if it would stop Ramsay from hurting him. It wasn’t like he could move around much, not when he was chained to the pole and hanging from the ceiling all the time, exhausted from his hunger and lack of sleep. 

“You’re lucky you’re a boy. With how much cock you get, you’d absolutely be pregnant by now.” Ramsay’s voice was mocking and it was like a stab to the heart. He hated when Ramsay made fun of him. The beatings he could understand, Ramsay was just trying to teach him, the rape he understood- Ramsay had his needs, after all. But when Ramsay mocked him it seemed to be nothing more than him just being mean for the sake of it. Yelling and insults even made sense, another way Ramsay taught him his place, but the mocking and making fun did nothing but hurt his feelings. 

“Sansa didn’t do anything.” Theon whimpered. “She didn’t, she didn’t, she didn’t!”

“You’re right, she didn’t. But you did.” 

Theon sobbed dryly, still hiding his face. 

“I’m getting real fucking sick of you still crying over your stupid Starks all the time. Maybe if you hadn’t been such a little cunt when I told you about Robb, I wouldn’t have had to send my boys after Sansa. I’m disappointed in you, pup. I was hoping you wouldn’t care, that you’d just be thankful for me coming to see you, but you’ve messed up yet again.” He sighed deeply. “How many Starks must I hurt before you learn your lesson? Before you learn that your caring about them is what’s getting them hurt?”

“No, no, no.” Theon rocked back and forth, shaking his head. “No, master, no, no, no!” 

“Don’t,” Ramsay took a step closer and bent down, grabbing a fistful of Theon’s hair- long and greasy and limp- yanking at it to force Theon to look at him. “Don’t ever fucking say no to me. Do I have to teach you that lesson again, too? Do I have to remind you of why you don’t say no to me?”

“No!” Theon screeched, panic showing in his blue-green eyes as he realized what he said. “I-I mean- I mean I know- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know not to say it, I know! I promise! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” 

He was babbling, staring at Ramsay, and the pure terror showed in his expression. 

Ramsay threw him to the floor, disgust in his eyes. "Mewling over the Starks-- It doesn't matter what happens to them, does it? All you do is cry, cry, cry... I could tell you that Catelyn Stark was dead, and you'd cry! I could tell you that Robb Stark had risen from the grave, and you'd cry! A miracle! I could tell you that Bran was walking, and guess what? You would cry! Why do I have such a whiny pet?"

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I’m trying, I’m trying, I can’t help it!” Theon felt so many things at once. Pain everywhere, self loathing and guilt weighing heavily in his gut, the emptiness of his stomach and soreness of his arms. He’d grown up with the Starks, they’d been his family, he couldn’t just forget them. He wished Ramsay would just understand, he wished he could explain. He wanted to cry but it would only make Ramsay angry, and he was drained of tears. 

"You can!" he roared, kicking Theon in the gut. "You can! You're not trying hard enough!" Why wouldn't this stupid toy break? Why was nothing working-- nothing that had worked for all these others prior? He kicked Theon again, lurching his frail body back so he hit the pole, the chain clanging. "They're nothing to you! You are nothing to them! They haven't come looking for you since you ran, you know that? They. Don't. Care!"

Theon loved his master. His master loved him. His master was just trying to teach him, just trying to do what was best for him- he told himself that, over and over and over when Ramsay kicked him. He curled up on his side on the floor, looking fearfully up at his master. He loved him. He was just teaching him. He deserved it, he was bad and stupid and dumb. 

He’d never quite imagined, as a child- or at any age, really- that love would hurt this bad, that it would be chains and starvation and cruel words, that it would be beatings and rapes and being left alone in the dark, but now he understood. He was Ramsay’s pet, his master’s possession, he belonged to his master. His master was kind, doing these things to teach him. And he was so bad, always making his master so angry. He could never seem to do anything right. 

He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to blink away the bright white stars dancing in his vision. His master was right. The Starks didn’t care. No one cared about him, no one except his master. Theon didn’t even care about himself. He was just a pet, a plaything, an object- and he was lucky to be one. Not everyone got such a perfect master as Ramsay. Ramsay, who always taught him his lesson, no matter how hard it might be to teach. So patient and so kind, and Theon was so bad, so, so bad. 

He was zoning out, losing focus, staring dazedly up at Ramsay. “I...m... sorry...” Theon managed to say, voice cracking and weak. 

"Are you?" Ramsay looked down at him, eyes slitted. He crouched down and grabbed Theon by the hair again, pulling his head up. "Don't look at me like that," he said, voice low and even. "Don't look at me like I'm a monster. I'm doing what's best for you, right pup?" He dropped him, watching, apathetic, as Theon's head hit the floor. "Weak," he spat.

“Weak, weak, rhymes with... freak...” Theon mumbled to himself, remembering his rhymes from the other day. His whole world was spinning, he couldn’t focus on anything at all. 

"What?" Ramsay asked sharply. "What was that?" He grabbed Theon's chin, turning his head toward him. "What are you doing?'

“‘m weak.” Theon responded pathetically, eyes not focusing on Ramsay’s face. “Weak, sneak, freak. I’m weak.” His mumbling grew less coherent as he continued rhyming words to ‘weak,’ too dizzy with pain and exhaustion to do much else. 

"Oh, little pup... you forgot 'reek'," he said silkily, stroking Theon's cheek.

Theon nodded as best he could, eyes nearly shut. “Reek. Reek, reek, it rhymes with weak. Freak. Sneak, meek, bleak...” He was aching, but he was also numb, and the throbbing of his head didn’t seem so sharp and painful anymore. 

Ramsay was grinning, near breathless with amusement. "Squeak," he supplied, enjoying this new game. "Sleek." He ran his hands down Theon's skinny body, feeling all the ridges of his ribcage, dipping down into the concave of his belly.

Theon felt he might pass out, but he knew Ramsay wouldn’t like that, so he clung on to consciousness as best he could. “Shriek. Reek. Weak.” His body shivered at Ramsay’s touches, and if he weren’t on the edge of consciousness, he’d likely be glowing with appreciation for the physical contact. 

"My sweet pup," Ramsay murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Theon's head. "Look at you... You know what you are. Good pup."

“Weak.” Theon repeated, nodding mindlessly. He was so tired, so, so tired... “Weak, weak, weak.” 

"Sleep, little weak pup," Ramsay coaxed. "I know you want to sleep, right? So tired, so sleepy, little pup..." He brushed his hair back from his face, looking fondly down at him.

“Master...” Theon murmured, reaching out for his master, holding weakly onto his master’s hand. 

"Sleep, pup," Ramsay repeated, gathering a fistful of Theon's greasy hair and lifting his head up once again. He paused, considered him, and leaned down to kiss him on the lips before tightening his hold and bashing Theon's head back against the pole. Metal clanged and echoed as Theon's head swam and his tremulous grasp on consciousness severed. 

Ramsay calmly went to work holding Theon up, chaining him to the ceiling hook and administering the gag and muzzle. Theon hung limp, naked and pathetic, eyes shut. Ramsay hugged him briefly, wrapping his arms around that lifeless body, and kissed his cheek chastely. 

"Good pup," he whispered, stepping away. He shut off the light, and his eyes were pale and shining in the dim remnants of light. "Sleep tight."


	49. Chapter 49

Broken.

Theon Greyjoy was broken.

At least, it felt that way when he awoke. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, he only knew he was aching terribly and he was alone, hung up from the ceiling again, and his thighs felt weirdly wet.

His sleep hadn’t really been sleep, no, it’s been a dreary, unconscious state that left him so tired and feeling so heavy. His body felt like a million tons pulling down at his arms, his head felt as if someone were slamming it repeatedly against a wall. Throbbing pain, sharp pain.

Master. Where was his master? The last he could remember was his master praising him, looking down at him so lovingly... but now the room was dark and empty and reeked of piss, and he suddenly realized the cause for the wetness on his thighs. It must’ve happened recently, when he was still unconscious. He must have been left alone for a while.

He whimpered quietly, pathetically. Master would be so mad. He’d made a mess, and it was all over his thighs and puddled on the floor. He wished he could just go back into the blissful dark of unconsciousness, but he couldn’t. No matter how tired he felt, he was stuck staring at the door, waiting for it to open- waiting for his master to come with all his rage.

Upstairs, Ramsay was watching the news, lounging in an armchair while his father sat on the couch reading a book, the both of them marinating in tense silence. Ilyn Payne's face was plastered on the screen again, and Ramsay watched in disappointment as the news broadcaster spoke of how he was being held without bail, awaiting trial for murder. Roose cleared his throat, and Ramsay glanced over at him boredly.

"When was the last time you checked on it?"

"Yesterday, I think. Why?"

"It's past dinner time," Roose reminded him. "What time yesterday?"

"Mm, I don't remember. I'll do it now," Ramsay said, standing up with a yawn. "If you see Damon, ask him to come down, won't you?"

"No," Roose replied, not looking up from his book.

"Thanks," Ramsay said flippantly, striding off towards the basement. "Pup!" he called, swinging the door open wide. "Are you awake?"

Theon squinted as the light turned on, trying to look at his master. His cheeks were flushed pink and there was a guilty, embarrassed look on his face. He quickly shifted his gaze down to the floor.

"What's that smell?" Ramsay asked, halting in the doorway. "Pup, what did you do?" He took a step closer, wrinkling his nose. "Did you...?"

Theon just whimpered softly in response. What else could he do? He couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell his master that he didn’t mean to, he couldn’t help it, he woke up and it had just happened... he couldn’t stand to look up at Ramsay, didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face.

"Did you mess yourself?" Ramsay snarled, grabbing Theon hard enough to bruise. "You didn't even drink yesterday, or the day before. What do you think you're doing, soiling yourself? Stupid mutt!"

Theon screwed his eyes tightly shut, whimpering at Ramsay’s bruising grip. He couldn’t help it, he hadn’t been let down for too long, it wasn’t his fault- but he couldn’t say anything. He had to just stand there, week and pathetic and ashamed.

"Filthy bitch!" He smacked him hard across the face, hand biting into the metal buckles of the muzzle straps. "I hope you don't think you're getting a bath, for this."

Theon didn’t even try to talk. There was no point. He fucked up again, his master was mad, and now he was paying for it. It hurt, of course it hurt, his heart aching just as much as the physical pains in his body- but he was getting used to it. The smack was really nothing compared to other things. Nothing compared to whipping, kicking, the slice of a knife, the feeling of his head being slammed against a pole or wall or floor.

Ramsay growled in frustration. He left the room again, stomping back upstairs and furiously informing his father of the situation (he merely laughed) and fetching cleaning supplies, before he returned to Theon.

He stared coldly at him. "You're not getting cleaned," he snapped, dropping to his knees in front of him. "Disgusting," he muttered, mopping up the little puddle with paper towels and spraying disinfectant spray over it.

Theon hadn’t expected to get cleaned, he didn’t deserve it, he knew that- he was stupid, but not that stupid. He was just a filthy little pet, and he’d displeased his master again. He was tired. He wanted to go back to sleep. He let himself relax as best he could, taking slow, deep breaths, eyes shut.

Ramsay scrunched up the paper towels in his fist, shooting Theon a loathsome look. "It looks like you won't be needing a break off the chains today, will you? And you clearly don't need a drink. Is there anything else you can do to disappoint me today, mutt?"

Theon wasn’t really listening. He was, after all, half asleep, in the word state of half-consciousness that he seemed to spend most of his time in.

Ramsay gave him one last dirty look before leaving him there, returning to the living room and flopping down on the couch beside his father. He sighed with a vengeance, and Roose gave him a sideways glance.

"Sit up. You're not four."

"You didn't even know me when I was four," Ramsay said, but he sat up regardless.

Roose scoffed and turned his attention back to his book. "You stink of piss... Did it soil itself?"

"Yup. I guess it can't hold it that long."

"Did you wash your hands?"

"Mm," Ramsay affirmed, dropping his face into said hands. "It's gotten so boring," he whined. "I think I've finally broken it, but I'm not done playing and it's boring. All it does is sleep and cry."

"Find a new toy, then. I'm sure there are plenty of them around." Roose turned a page, hardly paying attention.

"I could," Ramsay agreed. "But I don't know if I'm quite ready to hunt him yet."

“So the pup finally broke?” Damon walked in, having just come down from upstairs. He was shirtless, pants loose and low on his waist. He had his whip in hand and he was carefully stroking it, massaging the oil into the leather.

"Yes," Ramsay said. "I just have one more test for it, to make sure."

"Make sure you leech it," Roose said, "before you let the girls have it. It's been down there for too long, it's probably sick. Its blood is probably vile."

"Of course, father," Ramsay said, rolling his eyes to Damon.

“Yeah, Yeah. Leeches.” Damon smirked to Ramsay and then at his whip, coiling it lovingly. “Anyway, can I go pay it a visit? If it’s broken, it doesn’t really matter what we do to it anymore, does it?”

"Go ahead," Ramsay said, lolling his head to the side. "Just don't kill it, or maim it. We still have to be able to hold a hunt, and I want it to be a good one."

* * *

 

It wasn’t long that Damon had been down there when Theon started screaming. Not crying, not sobbing, not sad little sounds of pain- real, raw, agonized screaming. As if he was being skinned alive.

Which he was.

“I’ve never skinned someone before, bitch, better stay still so I don’t fuck up.” Damon’s smile was wicked as he slid the blade under the skin on Theon’s left pinky finger. He’d taken him down from his hook just for this purpose, and he had removed the gag. The blade didn’t move easy, Damon’s sliding more like rough, jerky movements as he sliced strips of skin off the pinky.

It was agony, complete agony, and he was seeing stars but Damon told him if he passed out during this, he’d make sure he didn’t wake up- and Theon didn’t want to die.

What had he done? What had he done to deserve this, he wondered, was this his punishment for accidentally pissing on the floor? He couldn’t understand. He didn’t understand. Small tears trailed down his cheeks but he didn’t have much to spare, haven’t not drunk anything for a while and having spent much of his time crying. Maybe that was part of the reason why, too. Maybe he’d been crying too much.

When Damon got to the nail, he screamed worse than he’d ever screamed before. The pain was so sharp, white-hot agony as Damon pried the nail off with the tip of the knife and then went to work removing the skin around it.

"Damon!" Ramsay threw the door open so hard it banged off the wall, leaving an indent where the knob had struck. "What in the seven hells are you— Damon!" Ramsay shoved Damon away from Theon, and he fell to the floor once out of Damon's grasp. "I said, no maiming!"

The skinning job looked like Damon had attempted to cut frozen butter with the prongs of a fork. Ramsay shook his head, grimacing. "You didn't even do a clean job."

Theon cradled his hand against his chest, looking up at Ramsay in Damon in terror. It hurt, it hurt so badly. “W-What did I do?” He whimpered pathetically, voice and body trembling.

Damon laughed, quite clearly not regretting his actions at all. “I can chop the thing off then. You could make it into a necklace to replace that other one he lost.”

Ramsay gave him a dirty look, but he was more annoyed from the lack of obeying than he was with the mutilation.

"You didn't do anything, pup," Ramsay said, kissing Theon's hand above the sloppily flayed finger. "Damon, call Skinner. He can fix it. Hold tight, okay pup?" He brushed Theon's tears away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry.” Theon whimpered. “I-I made a mess, there’s blood- there’s blood everywhere, I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry.” He was so bad, so bad, and his master said he didn’t do anything but he must’ve done something, otherwise he wouldn’t be hurting so. He didn’t understand. Maybe he was just stupid, but he didn’t understand.

“You’re no fun.” Damon huffed but hurried upstairs to get Skinner, not wanting to deal with Ramsay’s anger.

Ramsay furrowed his brow and embraced Theon, letting his pup nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The ruined hand was between them, and Ramsay was careful not to touch it.

"Poor pup," he murmured. "Oh, you poor little puppy... I told him not to."

“I-I love you...” Theon mumbled, and he was in so much pain but it felt so good to be held by his master, to nuzzle up against him and breath in the familiar scent of cinnamon and pine, to have those strong arms around him. “You- you always do what’s b-best for me. Thank- thank you, Master.”

"We're going to have to cut it off," Ramsay said. "We can't save it, you know that? You're lucky it's only your pinkie... You'll still have a nub, though. Skinner is good with it, too, he'll make it clean."

He just nodded. He didn’t care what happened to it, as long as it stopped hurting- as long as he stayed in his master’s arms. “I love you.” He repeated. He did. His heart fluttered and swelled and he loved his master so, so much in that moment, even more than usual.

Damon came back down the stairs a few minutes later, Skinner following behind him.

"Give me your hand, kid," Skinner ordered. In one hand he held a nasty looking knife, perfect for severing a finger. Ramsay adjusted his hold on Theon, so he sat in Ramsay's lap with his right arm wrapped tightly around him, and Theon stretched out his left arm. Skinner took Theon's hand in his own, examining the ruined finger. It was salvageable from the middle knuckle down, so Skinner poked the tip of the blade against the middle knuckle.

"I suggest you bite down on something, kid," Skinner said, glancing up at Theon.

Theon looked up at Ramsay, his eyes wide and scared. He didn’t know what to bite down on. He wasn’t sure what to bite. “M-Master...” He whimpered. He didn’t have any clothes to bite, and the only thing he could think of was his own lip, which would hurt.

Ramsay reached behind Theon, pulling out the tail plug, and held the furry end of the tail to Theon's mouth. "This is thick enough," he said. "Bite."

Theon nodded and bit down obediently, staring up into his master’s pretty blue eyes.

"Go ahead," Ramsay said.

Using the tip of the knife and his own fingers, Skinner carefully dislocated the middle joint of Theon's pinky.

Theon screamed. Just the feeling of something touching the skinned area was enough to make him tremble from the pain, and the dislocation absolutely did not help. Damon cackled from where he was standing, watching Theon’s obvious pain.

"Don't worry, kid, it's not over. Damon, get your lighter ready. We're gonna have to cauterize this." Skinner pressed the blade against Theon's crooked finger, cutting easily through the flesh, tuning out Theon's muffled screams.

Damon happily pulled the lighter out of his pocket, flicking it on to make sure it worked before tossing it over to Skinner.

Skinner held the blade over the little flame, heating it and pressing it flat against the remaining stump of Theon's finger. The steel sizzled against his bloody flesh, and Theon thrashed instinctively.

Theon couldn’t help it, screaming and thrashing and letting the tail fall out of his mouth so he could beg. “Please, Master, m-make him stop- make it stop!” He shouted, the burning somehow worse than any of the pain before it.

"He can't stop," Ramsay said. "Not until he's done. Unless you want it to get infected? It'll hurt even more then."

It was done quickly, but it felt like forever to Theon, and he went almost completely limp in Ramsay’s lap when it was finished. He clutched his hand to his chest, whimpering softly and hiding his face against Ramsay’s shoulder.

Skinner wiped his knife clean and tossed the lighter back to Damon. "You'll want to wrap that," Skinner said, nodding towards Theon's bloody, cauterized stump of a finger. "And unless you want to listen to him cry all night, I suggest you give him some of the oxycodone."

Ramsay agreed, and Skinner and Damon left.

"What were you thinking, doing such a hack job?" Skinner snapped. "After he told you not to maim him? Are you trying to get him mad at you?"

“If he gets mad, he’ll just take it out on it.” Damon shrugged, slinging an arm over Skinner’s shoulder and grinning. “It’s just some worthless toy. Ramsay won’t get mad over a finger or two.”

"He didn't look happy to me," Skinner said, shaking his head. "You know he doesn't like us ruining his toys before he's had his fill of them. This one... He's different. Special to him, somehow."

Damon rolled his eyes. “The only reason it’s different is cuz it took so fucking long to break. He’ll let us kill it off soon enough.”

"Maybe," Skinner said, relenting. "But that's the thing. He's kept him around so long, been more patient than he ever was with the others before... I think Ramsay's gotten attached."

Damon’s grin widened even more, “Attached? That’s funny, Skinner,” but then it faltered as he thought about it. “Fuck, actually, you may be right. I don’t think he’s ever kept one of his toys this long, much less had the patience to deal with a disobedient bitch for this long.”

They sat down on the couch, probably a little too close together. “That’s a shame. I wanted to hunt the bitch.” Damon grimaced. “He’s given us a difficult enough time already.” He nodded toward the healing scab above Skinner’s eye.

Skinner touched it, smiling. "The kid is a brat," he remarked. "I almost wonder... Ramsay may try making him one of us. Who knows? We could call him Reek."

Damon laughed aloud. “As if. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t have to get tortured at any point before I became Ramsay’s friend.”

"Of course not," Skinner scoffed. "We all did the torturing... This kid, though." He glanced thoughtfully off to the side. "Maybe. Who knows?"

Damon was silent for a few rare moments before he spoke up again. “D’you think Rams loves it? The bitch?”

"....yes. In his own way, yes."

Downstairs, Ramsay was leaning back against the basement wall, Theon in his lap, still quietly trembling. Ramsay stroked Theon's hair, mindful of the fake ears, and the tail plug was back in place now, but the gag and muzzle still lay abandoned on the floor beside them. He petted him until Theon's soft sobs quieted to sniffles and eased to sleep, and long after, just staring at the opposite wall. It was almost peaceful.


	50. Chapter 50

His master had been so good to him lately. He’d been fed twice recently, and it was less disgusting than it had been the last two times. Ramsay had been more affectionate, praising him more and scolding him less. He felt good, he as proud of himself, happy that he was making his master happy. Even so, he was still chained up to the ceiling, but he didn’t complain. It was okay, it was all okay, because his master still cared about him, his master was proud of him. Even if his finger- or, the stub where his finger used to be- was in constant pain, he kept the crying to a bare minimum and he knew Ramsay was proud. 

He wanted nothing but to see Ramsay, he didn’t care about the pain he was in, just his master. He could hear noises outside the door, and his heart swelled in his chest when the basement door opened and his master walked in. 

"Hey, pet," Ramsay greeted, approaching him and getting busy removing the gag and muzzle and unchaining him from the ceiling. "How would you like to go outside today?" 

“With you?” Theon asked. He knew it would be with Ramsay, of course, but he had to be sure. 

"Of course," Ramsay said, deciding to omit the rest of the facts. "Do you feel up to a walk?"

“Y-Yeah.” Theon nodded, looking down at his legs. Constantly being forced to stand for days on end didn’t really make it fun to walk, but he’d do anything for his master. “Can I- can I hold your hand?” 

"Yes, I think you can." Ramsay took his proffered hand and led him from the room, upstairs to the kitchen. There was a long robe hung over the back of one of the chairs. "Here, pup, put this on."

Theon reluctantly let go of his master’s hand to put on the robe, immediately taking hold of his hand again afterward. He leaned on him a bit, a tiny smile on his face. Ramsay was so kind to him, so caring...

"Let's go outside, pup," Ramsay said, leading him outside. The boys were all stood on the porch, with the girls pacing eagerly on the lawn. A plump blonde girl was sprawled at Damon's feet, mascara running all down her face, blended with her tears.

Theon tensed, quickly moving to hug Ramsay’s arm as opposed to just holding his hand. He looked down at the girl in terror, clutching his arm even tighter as the girl looked back at him. 

“Look at the bitch we caught.” Damon nudged her with his foot, laughing aloud at Theon’s reaction to seeing her.

"Please help me," she sobbed, voice thick and choked with tears. "Please, please... I don't want to die."

"Don't worry," Ramsay crooned, kneeling beside her. "If you make it out of the woods, you win!"

“Master...” Theon whimpered softly, unhappy when he had to let go in order for Ramsay to kneel down. 

“Shut up, cunt.” Yellow Dick snapped, kicking her in the ribs. “She’s been sobbing nonstop since we got here.” 

"Let's quit waiting, then," Skinner said, bored. "Come on, girl, get up—" He grabbed the girl by the arm, hauling her up to stand. 

"What's your name?" Luton demanded. He shoved her back so she stumbled and caught herself against the porch railing.

"T-Tansy..." she stammered, looking between them all. Her desperate gaze lingered on Theon, pleading silently for help.

“M-master.” Theon repeated, reaching for his hand. “She’s- she’s looking at me.” His voice lowered to a mumble. He didn’t like it, not at all. It made him nervous. It made his gut twist uncomfortably. It had thoughts running through his head that he shouldn’t be having. 

"Tansy!" Ramsay snapped, drawing her frightened attention to him. He smiled at her, and she looked as though she may wet herself. "Here are the rules. You get a four minute head start, and then I send my girls, and then we—" he gestured around to the boys, "—come, and have our fun. If you win, you live. Got that?"

“I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun with you.” Damon was stroking his whip, making sure she saw it- making sure she knew what she’d be dealing with. Theon had felt that whip before. He’d been on the receiving end, and it’d been agony. 

“Do- Do I have to come?” Theon whispered to Ramsay, eyes wide and pleading. 

"Do you want to eat tomorrow? You liked what you had yesterday, didn't you? Or do you want to go back in the basement?" Ramsay asked, face taut while the girl stared at them all, uncomprehending.

Theon shifted his weight from leg to leg, looking down at his feet. He didn’t even have shoes. “I-I’ll come with, master, I just- I don’t want to slow you down.” 

"You won't," Ramsay said. "Grunt, go get pup some shoes, won't you?" 

Grunt grunted and shuffled off to do so. Ramsay grinned at the shivering girl. 

"Go on, now, Tansy... Run."

The blonde looked confused and terrified, but quickly turned and ran. Theon thanked Grunt quietly when he came out with shoes, stepping into them. They were a little too big, but it was okay. They fit enough that he’d be able to run in them. 

“I like the looks of this one. I love a nice blonde bitch.” Damon flashed Skinner a look before turning back to watch as the girl disappeared into the woods. 

Ramsay leaned over the railing, his lips framing the words as he counted silently, eyes sharp and hawkish as he stared out into the trees. The dogs were already prowling near the edge of the fence, barking impatiently. 

"You won't have to keep up with the dogs," Skinner said, slinking back to talk to Theon. "As long as you move as fast as Grunt and Luton, you'll be fine."

Theon nodded, glad for Skinner’s reassurance. “You- you guys don’t get hurt, right?” He looked worriedly over at Ramsay. He didn’t want his master hurt. 

"No," Skinner said curtly. "Neither will the girls. Only she will." He gave him a sideways look. "Does that bother you?"

He shook his head quickly. “N-no, I just want my master safe.” He looked longingly at his master’s back, wishing he could be back on his lap, held tightly in his arms. 

"He'll be more than safe, kid," Skinner said, guiding Theon down the steps as Ramsay began moving towards the fence. As they walked across the yard, the dogs rushed around them, and Maude came up behind Theon, sniffing curiously at the tail plug. After a moment, she wagged her own tail and looked up at him, as though wondering why he wasn't wagging back. Skinner snorted and walked away.

Theon’s face flushed dark red and he pulled the robe back down as best he could so she wouldn’t lift it up again. He gave her a look but she didn’t seem to care, so he reached down and scratched behind her ears. 

Damon’s wicked smile only grew as they reached the end of the four minutes, and Yellow Dick was staring intently at Ramsay, waiting for the time to run out. 

"Go!" Ramsay shouted suddenly, and at once the dogs turned and bolted for the fence, leaping agilely over, and Ramsay turned to Theon. "Come here, pup," he said, hands out.

Theon hurried toward Ramsay and took hold of one of his hands, looking at him with worried eyes. “Skinner said- he said you guys wouldn’t get hurt. B-but I’m worried about you.” He squeezed his hand tightly. The forest were dense and dark, he didn’t know what kind of animals were out there- and even other than animals, what about roots and sticks they could trip over?

“You coming, Rams?” Damon shouted, jumping over the fence himself instead of using the fate. 

"Of course," Ramsay replied, deftly lifting Theon over the fence. He put his hand on the fence and slung himself over, followed by Skinner and the rest, with Grunt clumsily bringing up the rear. 

Ahead, the barking of dogs rang through the trees, beaconing them towards the heart of the woods, where a stream cut through the undergrowth.

Theon didn’t want to go on the hunt, but he grabbed Ramsay’s hand and followed him into the woods, through the trees and toward the dogs. He could hear screaming, and while he felt bad for the girl, all he could think was that she was stupid. Screaming would tell everyone where she was, and no one other than the boys and the dogs could hear her here. 

“This one’s noisy!” Damon exclaimed, running ahead of the group. 

“If she’s this noisy just from running, it’ll be fun to play with her.” Yellow Dick replied. “Noisy can be fun.” He shot Theon a knowing look before jogging past. 

"Come on, pup, faster," Ramsay said, pulling Theon along. They ran through the woods for minute or two, and though Theon's muscles were screaming for rest, Ramsay pushed him harder, forcing him to go faster and keep up with them. He let go of his hand as the dogs came into sight, and sure enough, they were bounding up along the stream bed, barking. The blonde girl had evidently tried to hide in the water under an earthy overhang, hoping that the water would wash her scent. As she saw them approach, she paled and stumbled out, splashing through the water to the other side. Helicent leaped from the overhang, landing messily in the water and bolting up the opposite shore. The others followed close behind.

Tansy let out a choked cry, tripping over a rock and skinning her shin, but she clambered up again and fought her way through the undergrowth, fleeing the dogs.

Theon didn’t want to keep going. He didn’t want to see the screaming girl, didn’t want to push his aching body to the limit, didn’t want to run without his master holding his hand. He did anyway, and found himself almost relieved when he watched Helicent catch up to the girl, teeth clamping down on her leg and knocking her to the forest floor. 

Tansy screamed hoarsely as Helicent shredded the muscles of her calf, and in an instant the others were upon her too, circling and growling, waiting for the order. Ramsay stood over her, surveying, and after a moment he turned to Theon. The Boys watched silently, eagerly. 

"What do you think, pup? What sort of fun should we have first?"

Theon hurried to Ramsay’s side, hugging his arm once again, not wanting to be too far from his master. “I-I don’t know.” He trembled as he looked down at Tansy, who was looking at him in a way that made his gut twist. He felt guilty. Her eyes were wide with terror, wet and red-rimmed from crying, and she was sobbing so loudly. He tightened his grip on Ramsay’s arm. “M-make her stop looking a-at me like... like that.” 

She was bad, she wanted him to be bad, she wanted him to betray his master. He wouldn’t. He was good, he was a good pet, he’d worked so hard to be good and the way she was looking at him made him doubtful of everything he’d convinced himself of. She was innocent, she hadn’t done anything wrong, she hadn’t done anything to deserve this- just like Kyra, just like... him. 

He couldn’t be thinking like that. He couldn’t. He couldn’t stand those pleading eyes on him for one moment longer. Theon clung tighter to Ramsay. “M-Master, please, make her stop looking at me!” 

"You heard him," Ramsay said, looking around at the boys. "Make her stop." Luton grinned eerily and crouched beside Tansy's head. She peered up at him through blinding tears, mouthing pleas to help her, save her, but she was voiceless with fear. 

"You have such pretty eyes," Luton murmured, before he dug his thumbs into them, fingernails sharp, gouging those pretty blue eyes right out of her head.

Theon couldn’t look away. He didn’t know if he felt relief or regret as he listened to her scream, he just knew that he wasn’t going to be bad just because of some random girl. Maybe she had done something bad. “Please don’t ever hunt me.” He whispered, turning to look at his master. He preferred being his pet. He was interrupted from his train of thought by Damon. 

“Hey Rams! Who’s gonna fuck her first?” Damon’s whip was in his hand and he looked thrilled. 

“Please don’t.” Theon whispered.

"How about you, pup? Don't you want to?" He pushed Theon towards her and the dogs made way, panting as they continued to circle the girl. Helicent laid still, her jaws still clamped around Tansy's torn calf. Her mouth was wide, opened in a silent scream, and her hands rose weakly to cover the bleeding remnants of her eyes. Luton held what he had gouged out in his hands, examining them with a sick sort of grin on his face.

Theon refused to let go of Ramsay’s arm, even as he pushed him. “I’m yours.” He whimpered. “Just yours, I-I don’t wanna touch her!” 

“That’s a shame.” Damon sneered, cracking his whip across the girl’s body and making her scream louder. 

"Go on, then, Damon. I'll let you have her first." Ramsay looked almost disappointed as he regarded Theon. "Let the pup watch. Go on, pup, sit down. Watch, be a good little pet, won't you?"

Theon obeyed, but it was hard. He watched as the boys took turns on her, wanting to look away but not wanting to anger his master. He felt terrified, panicked, like he couldn’t breath. It was too familiar, too brutal, and all he could think of was when the boys had shared him like they were now sharing her. He wanted to go home, he wanted to go home and lay with his master and make his master happy. 

“Bring back good memories?” Yellow Dick sneered as he finished his turn, Damon going in for another round after him. Yellow Dick sat down next to Theon on the ground. He was too close, much too close, but Theon just stayed still and watched.

Tansy was weak from shock and blood loss, and she wasn't very fun. They smacked her around, tortured her, and Damon even whipped her several times to get her her to scream, but it was a disappointing hunt. Ramsay had his turn, relishing in the way blood streaked down her face like tears, and when he had finished, they all backed off. 

"Last chance, pup. Want her?" Ramsay asked. Theon's eyes were wide, a muscle in his jaw working, and he slowly shook his head. Ramsay sighed. "Girls! Rip her," he commanded, and the dogs tore in.

Theon hated that Ramsay had taken a turn with her. It make him feel sick and bad and jealous. Tansy got to be touched by his master, and he didn’t. He knew it was wrong, he knew she didn’t want it and it was bad and brutal and cruel, but Ramsay was his master- not hers. He stood up, looking pleadingly at Ramsay and reaching down to hold his hand. 

Ramsay directed Theon to look, to watch, as the dogs shredded into Tansy, as she screamed and begged and fell apart under their jaws. Their muzzles were red and dripping by the end of it, and they broke away, trotting back to flock around Ramsay and the Boys, yipping softly and wagging their tails, seeking praise for a hunt well-executed. 

"Good girls," Ramsay said, pleased, as he stroked their heads. "Such good girls! A pity," he added, glancing at the remains, "that she wasn't more fun. You could have had a new sister!"

“I didn’t like her.” Theon mumbled. She’d made him nervous. She’d made him think bad things. He scooted closer to Ramsay. 

“Can we not bring the bitch with us next time?” Damon nodded toward Theon. “Because it’s really killing the damn mood.” 

Ramsay didn't give Damon a real answer, but he did give Theon a cursory glance. "Why didn't you like her, pup?" he asked softly, testing. "Did she upset you?"

Theon hesitated before nodding. “She- she kept looking at me, like she wanted me to help her. She wanted me to- to be bad. I don’t wanna be bad, b-but she kept looking at me, a-and it made me nervous.” 

"You're a good boy," he praised. "Such a good pup for resisting her. She's dead now, pup— Grunt, take care of that mess."

Grunt grunted, and bent to gather the bloody remains of torn flesh and fabric with his bare hands, thoroughly unbothered. It was what he did. They began walking back, leaving Grunt to clean up.

Theon’s face flushed at the praise and he leaned against his master a bit as they walked. He was glad he didn’t help her. He wasn’t sure quite why they’d hurt her, or what she’d done to deserve it, but they surely had a reason. He just didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. His master was proud of him now. He had done good. “I love you.” 

"I know. Good pup," Ramsay said again, reaching up to pat Theon's head. The dogs were dashing ahead, playing at they ran, muzzles still stained and gory. "Sour Alyn, you'll help Ben out with bathing them, won't you?"

"Yes, Ramsay," Alyn murmured.

Theon let Ramsay help him back over the fence and into the house, feeling his heart sink a little when he was brought back down into the basement, the heavy collar secured once again around his neck. He looked sadly up at his master. “Did I-did I do bad?” 

"No, pup, you were very good. This is where you belong. Your home is me, remember? You belong wherever I want you to be, and this is where I need you." Ramsay kissed his forehead as he chained his wrists to the ceiling.

“M-Master, I-I,” He thought the being chained to the ceiling was a punishment. He hated it. It hurt, it made him so tired, it pulled at his arms and made it hard to sleep. “Do I have to be chained to- to the ceiling?” 

"Sorry, pup," Ramsay said, not sounding all that sorry. "You did well on the hunt. I'm proud of you." Nonetheless, he put the gag back in Theon's mouth and strapped on the muzzle. "I'll be back soon, okay pet?" He booped the muzzle and left Theon behind, stewing in the dark, wondering what he did wrong.

Ramsay was back, of course, but it was two days later. Two days of being alone, with no food or water, and only the appearance of Skinner once a day to let Theon down to relieve himself. When Ramsay did return, it was not what Theon had expected, or ever dared hope for. 

The basement door creaked loudly and Ramsay could be heard, stomping down the stairs. He burst into Theon's little room a moment later, holding something behind his back. He approached him, looking cross yet disappointed, and stopped a couple of feet away. 

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked softly, dangerously. Theon merely looked up at him, disoriented and confused. "Were you going to tell me?" Ramsay roared, seeming to snap, his icy eyes slits of rage. Theon flinched back in mute terror. "Miserable slut! But don't worry— I found out. I took care of it myself."

From behind his back, he pulled the bleeding head of Jon Snow.


	51. Chapter 51

No. 

How could Ramsay have found out? How did Ramsay know? He hadn’t told anyone, not even Robb- the only people who knew were Jon and Ygritte. Jon would’ve never told anyone, and despite her mischievous nature, Ygritte wouldn’t either. 

Ramsay tore the muzzle off and ripped the gag out of his mouth, leaving Theon gasping and trembling with fear 

“I-I’m sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t think-“ He couldn’t look away from the head, the bloody fucking head, and oh gods Jon, now Jon was dead too, and it was his fault. Robb was dead, Sansa raped, Jon dead... it was all his fault. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, he didn’t understand. He swallowed hard, trying to stop the bile from rising up his throat. “I never thought- it wasn’t important- it was only two times- I-I’m sorry! It didn’t mean anything!” 

Ramsay blinked in surprise, but quickly masked it. He hadn't expected-- Theon had actually...? He was just guessing--an educated guess of course, with how whorey Theon had been--and had expected to be at least half right, but... Twice? He laughed, and dropped the head to the floor, kicking it aside so it rolled grotesquely, dark curls tangling. 

"Didn't it, though? How many others have fucked you, mutt? How many cocks did you take, before you were mine?"

“O-only two! Robb and Jon- or- or three, if a strap on counts- I’m sorry- I didn’t think to tell you! I’m sorry! Y-you were my first, I swear, you’re the- the only one that m-matters, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He was visibly trembling, quite obviously terrified. 

"Only Robb and Jon?" he asked, leaning in. "Poor little pup... They're both dead. I only wish I had been the one to kill the Young Wolf... Who had the strap-on?"

No, no, no. Drowned God, he was so stupid, he should’ve kept his mouth shut about that. “J-Jon.” He lied without thinking. “H-he put it in me with his- next to his cock.” 

"No, he didn't. Was it his girlfriend? That pretty little redhead?" He nipped at his ear, rough, just shy of drawing blood. "She would be fun to hunt, don't you think? And since you liked fucking her so much, I'll even let you have the first turn."

“No, no- please,” Theon whimpered, turning his head away and closing his eyes. Did Ramsay want him to be bad? He wanted to be good, he did, but he was so scared. He didn’t want other people getting hurt. 

"Mm," Ramsay hummed. "I think I like the idea, little pup. I think I'd like to have that pretty redhead screaming underneath me. What do you think I should do first, pup? And Damon? Where should we begin?"

“W-with all due respect, master, she- she’d tear you apart.” Theon answered honestly. Ygritte was fiery, angry, and Theon personally wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. 

"Let her try!" He strode away, a bounce in his step. "I hope she does her best, because there's a new Corso at the rescue I've had my eye on. What's her name, pup? What's that pretty redhead's name? I should know, because it'll be a dog's name soon enough."

“Stop- stop hurting them!” Theon pleaded, desperate. He didn’t think he could handle another death, another assault- the knowledge that he’d caused an innocent person pain. 

Ramsay slapped him hard across the face, knocking his head to the side and drawing blood to his mouth. Ramsay looked coldly at him for a moment, then slapped him again, an open palm slap that split Theon's lip and had him reeling. "Don't tell me what to do. Don't presume to think you have any authority over me. You're a bitch— my broken bitch, and you do as I say!"

Theon sobbed dryly, hanging his head. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I-I’m just dumb- I’m so stupid, I’m sorry.” 

"If you're not carefully, little pup," Ramsay spat, no affection remaining in the nickname, "we'll be hunting you next."

“N-no, please, please, I’ll be good,” Theon begged, looking up at him, eyes wide. “I’m so dumb, Master, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

"Bad dogs don't get to speak," he snapped, ramming the metal gag so hard into Theon's mouth it clashed against his teeth, likely chipping one.

Theon’s heart ached. He just wanted to be good, he tried so hard, but he always messed up. He was just bad. He was so bad and his master must hate him, because who could love him? He was filthy, he reeked, the body he used to be so proud of was starved and marked and ruined. He didn’t even know what his face looked like, he hadn’t seen a mirror in so long. He had to be ugly now. Ramsay hadn’t fucked him in a while, so that was proof. Ramsay used to call him pretty, but not anymore. He was an ugly, stinking pet now and he knew it, no one had to tell him. 

Ramsay shot him one last look of pure revulsion and buckled the muzzle on, hard and tight so both the straps and the muzzle itself dug into his face. He turned and crouched down, picked up the head and set it so its eyes stared blankly at Theon, and after a second thought he plugged the little nightlight back in from where it had sat, unused, on the floor. He plugged it to the outlet just beside Jon's head, for the sole cruel purpose of illuminating the pallor of death in Jon's face, the hollow look in those dead eyes, and the blood crustily dried on his lips and at the sawed end of his neck.

Theon couldn’t look away from that head, that stupid fucking head, and he wanted so badly to cry but it had been days since he’d last drank, and he didn’t have a drop of fluid to spare. He just wanted to be let down. Why was he always hung from his arms? He could be so good, if master just let him down... he could make his master feel so good, whenever his master wanted, but no. He didn’t understand. 

The muzzle hurt, digging into the already raw skin, and he briefly considered screaming until Ramsay came back. He quickly decided against it. Master was already angry with him, he didn’t want to make it worse. Just the other day, his master had held him and told him how good he was. He wanted that again, and screaming would not get it. He just whimpered softly, pathetically, staring into Jon’s dead eyes and wishing he could say sorry. 

Ramsay had left Theon, condemning him to stare numbly at the decapitated head, rendered dumb and mute. He went upstairs, passing Skinner and pausing only to inform him of what he had done, and strode away with a sort of proud feeling at the impressed look on Skinner's face. Of all his Boys, Skinner and Damon were by far his favorites, maybe because he had known them the longest, but they were also by far the most loyal to him, almost to a fault. He couldn't imagine them ever crossing him. It was Damon who had taken his request to Melisandre's Mannequin Emporium, an eerie shop run out of the home of a religious fanatic. Melisandre specialized in creepy dolls, but she had managed to do a fine job with the head of Jon Snow. It almost fooled Ramsay himself, and he was the one who paid for it.

She had crafted the beauty from a type of silicone material that perfectly modeled human skin, real human hair that she styled after Snow's, and a sort of glassy marble that she colored like Snow's eyes. It wasn't perfect, but it was very close, and in the relative dark it was more than enough to fool Theon, who hadn't seen Snow--or much else than the dark basement room--in almost two months. 

He couldn't touch Snow. It wasn't that he was too afraid to kill somebody outside of a hunt, or even something as ridiculous as a sense of kinship between bastards of politicians. Ramsay was smart, too smart to go after somebody like Snow, with connections and a family like the Starks. The girls they hunted were low-- scum off the streets, or those who simply wouldn't be missed. His pet's Kyra had been an exception: she was a risk, but one that was well-worth it. Seeing how his toy had crumpled, come to the cusp of breaking when confronted with the face of the Kyra whose young jaws had slain her namesake... Ramsay smiled slyly at the thought. 

His pup had been the most fun by far, but also the most frustrating. Never before had any of his toys taken six weeks to break. He was sure he had him now, though, what with all the unnecessary apologies, the simpering, and all that 'master' garbage. None of the others had ever called him that; it was rather mollifying when Theon did it. He had especially liked the rhyming-- what had prompted that? He had to wonder.... and that dying glow in his eyes? He loved that. He loved how pliant Theon had become, so willing and eager to please his master. He hadn't found this much joy in anything since he was a child, when Domeric died and he didn't have to pretend anymore. 

There was little he still wanted to do with the pup. He supposed it might almost be time to be done with it, to wash his hands of it all... But that would require a forfeit, and Ramsay didn't believe in those. He had never forfeited before, not once in his life, and he wasn't going to start now. 

He paused at the kitchen, glancing in, and saw only his father sitting at the counter, newspaper in hand and a bowl of some foul-smelling stew in front of him. He looked up and their eyes met, brief, and after the moment Ramsay looked down. What was that disappointment for? What had he done? Was his father annoyed with him, annoyed that he was taking so long? He itched to ask-- no, to demand answers, demand why his father refused to acknowledge him... He walked away instead, burning with an embarrassing mixture of rage and hot shame, resolving to sleep. He would eat in the morning.

Damon was in the kennel room, helping Ben corral the dogs, and they exchanged brief words as Ramsay knelt to stroke his girls' soft heads as they pressed close to him. He left Damon laughing his head off and Ben looking tiredly amused, and Ramsay took Helicent along, leading her from the room. She had some special privileges as both the alpha and his favorite dog, everybody knew, and she did not sleep in the kennel room with the others unless Ramsay was otherwise occupied.

Ramsay meandered along upstairs, Helicent trotting along at his heels. He stroked her head, his best girl, his oldest and most faithful... He recalled her namesake, and smiled to himself. They reached his bedroom at the top of the tower--why had his father built towers in? Were they medieval or something?--and Helicent hopped up on her usual side of the bed, where Theon had laid before the basement, and she curled up into a ball of velvety black fur, her floppy ears framing her soft face as those amber eyes looked up at him, deep and soulful. He patted her, kissed the nose of her graying muzzle, and laid beside her, closing his eyes. Helicent scooted closer and laid her head in his lap, her tail thumping against the mattress.

He had only been lying still for a minute or two, but he could already feel his consciousness drifting, off into blissfu--

Ramsay sat up, taut with irritation. Beside him, Helicent raised her own head, eyes sharp and glaring. There was an annoying song playing from somewhere, a bright and poppy melody... Where? He turned over, kicking the duvet off of him, and lunged for the beside table. That awful song was coming from the drawer, somehow loud and obnoxious enough to pierce through the thick oak, and he wrenched it open, ready to pummel whatever had disrupted his rest. He paused, though, when he located the source amidst the junk in the drawer, and a grin slowly spread over his face. That surely wasn't one of his phones, not with that ringtone, and especially not with his pup's sister as a favorited contact.

But there it was, pulsing on the screen: Yara Greyjoy's sallow face, displayed with a simple squid and frown-face emoticon as her contact name. Ramsay let it ring, content to condemn himself to this musical torment if it meant the Squid Bitch would leave him a juicy voicemail he could hold over his pup. If she left one. 

She did, though. As the phone rang itself out, a notification for a new voicemail popped up the screen, displayed under the low-battery warning. He tapped open the phone--he had had Theon register his fingerprint, just in case--and opened the voicemail, listening to Yara's choked up voice with that grin still on his face. This... This was...

"Thee? It's mom... she's really sick. Please call me back, if you can. I don't think she's going to get better this time."


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all realize we would’ve put a major character death warning if there was major character death right   
> I’m still salty about how some of y’all talked to us after recent chapters -m

Something like scarlet blood was glinting on the floor. He bent to pick it up, and the golden chain fell limply across his hand. The garnet teardrop—blood drop, he knew—was ugly and almost cruel in the harsh light of his bedroom. He closed his fist around it, squeezing as though he could squeeze it right to dust. 

It had been twenty-two days since Theon had run away again. Twenty-two days, and he was losing his mind. 

Robb slipped the necklace into his pocket. There was no use agonizing over it right now; destroying that damned necklace wouldn't return his best friend to him, after all, no matter how much he loathed it. Sabotaging Bolton, however... 

He slipped out into the hall, and heard the gentle click of toenails and the patter of paws on hardwood behind him. Grey Wind was emerging from Theon's room, tailed by Queenie, who meandered along with her head down. She had been doing that again, since he left for the second time, even despite Robb's efforts in explaining to her that Theon had only left because he was confused and worried about them all. 

He hadn't had a lot of time to examine the situation, especially not since Ilyn Payne broke in. Sansa had been absolutely inconsolable over Lady, who had suffered a concussion from Payne's attack on her, and hardly moved from Lady's side as she rested in bed for the whole first three days. School, too, had been excruciating. Bad enough was the attention when his father was killed. Now? Now, everybody had heard of how Robb himself had almost died, how his mother had lunged to protect him from Payne's knife, and how he had shoved her to the ground, because if anybody was going to die, it certainly was not going to be his mother. What of the kids? What of the kids, if they had lost their mother too? No, it was better for him to die...

Robb paused, blinking in the wake of these thoughts. Nobody had died. Nobody was going to die-- nobody had even gotten hurt, apart from Lady. Arya, the blessed little savage, had broken that fencing sword Jon had given her, Needle, as she beat Payne with it, sending him to the ground... Little did Payne know, she carried it just about everywhere apart from school, since their dad died. She had stabbed him with the pointy and broken end, screaming like he'd never heard her scream before, while crying too... He couldn't imagine what had been going on in her head, but he knew that therapist his mother and the school had set up was going to have his hands full. Meanwhile, Payne had been arrested and was being held without bail. Arya hadn't gotten in any sort of trouble for stabbing him, as it was ruled to be self defense. 

He scooped up Queenie and gave her a kiss on her little forehead. They were at Sansa's door, now, and he poised to knock when her door swung open. She stood before him, looking curiously up, her long red curls pulled back with a black hairtie. Lady, at her side, wore a purple collar with a white bow.

“Hey.” Sansa smiled at him, her cheeks flushed. She leaned in to give Queenie a tiny kiss on the nose. “Did you need something?” 

"Are you busy? I was hoping you could take Queenie for a couple of hours. Jon wants me to meet him at the park, since it's nice out, and I'm worried about her with the other dogs that will be there."

“Oh- I-“ Her blush darkened. “I’m actually going out with- I mean, going to hang out with Margaery. I can take Queenie, though! Lady is coming with me, too.” She took the fluffy little dog from Robb’s arms, giving her another tiny kiss. 

"You don't mind?" Even as he said it, Robb was handing the pup over, looking massively relieved. "I know there's a couple of mastiffs that hang out at the park and I don't want her getting hurt— they're good dogs, but, you know..."

“Don’t want the sweet girl to get hurt while Theon is-“ Sansa cut off, wrapping her arms tighter around Queenie. While Theon was gone. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.” 

Robb bit his lip, hearing what was left unsaid, and he gave a curt nod. "Thank you," he said, and he and Grey Wind headed downstairs to wait for Jon and Ygritte to arrive. Arya was sitting at the table, practicing with her duct-taped Needle. 

"Aren't you going to get that fixed?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

"Yeah," she huffed out between jabs and fancy maneuvers. "Jon's taking me next week."

"Oh. Okay." He glanced out the window, seeing that Ygritte's Jeep wasn't present, and sat down at the table to watch Arya.

It didn’t take too much longer for Jon to show up. Ygritte was out doing something or another with Tormund and Mance, and she’d let him borrow her Jeep. He got out and walked up onto the porch, knocking on the door. 

Grey Wind's head shot up and he barked, alerting them all of the potential enemy. He trotted to the entryway, nose to the knob, and Robb trailed after him, shushing him. He opened the door to Jon, and Grey Wind's tail rose, wagging furiously. 

"Hey, bud," Jon said, patting him. "Why don't you go out to the car? Ghost is in there." Grey Wind charged past him, bounding to the Jeep and launching himself through the open window of the backseat. 

"Hey, Jon," Robb greeted. There was a touch of exasperation in his face as he watched the dogs.

“It’s good to see you.” Jon commented as they walked over to the Jeep and got in the front, Grey Wind and Ghost wrestling in the back seat. Once inside, his face turned serious as he turned to Robb. “How’s everything been?” 

"I found this," Robb said, digging the necklace out of his pocket. "I was thinking we could either run it over a couple of times with the Jeep, or use it to piss off Bolton. Or both," he added with a shrug.

Jon nodded slowly. “We don’t want to do anything that will get Theon hurt, though.” 

"Of course." He leaned back in the seat, looking contemplatively up at the car ceiling. "That limits our options."

“How long has it been since he left?” Jon started driving, heading toward the park. 

"Well, he left again the 20th of March?" Robb pretended to think, because it was much less pathetic if Jon thought he hadn't been counting, though he knew him far better. "So... twenty-two days." He turned his head and watched North Street whiz by and fade behind them, merging onto Kings Road as they drove through town.

“Twenty- Gods, Robb.” Jon took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Ygritte has asked about him, and all I can tell her is he’s living with his boyfriend. She’d barge in guns blazing if she knew the truth, and I- I can’t risk her getting hurt.” 

"I didn't tell anybody, either. Only you." Robb sighed. "My mom may have been able to help, or do something at all, but she's got her plate full with Payne. She's attending trial, assisting the prosecution... If I told her about Theon now, I don't know what she could do about it."

Jon nodded slowly, parking the Jeep in front of a little ice cream shop at the edge of the park. “I’m worried about him.” 

"I keep telling myself that he could be fine, that Bolton could just be trying to get a rise out of us..." Robb shook his head. "But that would mean Bolton actually cares about someone else, and that's not... I can't fool myself." He gave a mirthless laugh and ran a hand through his hair.

“With what you said Theon told you... the stuff Bolton does to him...” Jon leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his dark curls and sighing deeply. 

"Not just Bolton," Robb said darkly. "Remember?" He sighed again and clenched a fist. "We need to get him out." 

At the word 'out', Grey Wind let out a high-pitched whine and pawed at the door, staring longingly through the window at the park, where several other dogs were running around.

Jon sighed and got out of the car, opening the back door for the dogs. “He cant keep Theon forever.” 

"Can't he?" 

Jon looked up at Robb in surprise, but Robb was glaring over Jon's head, and he whirled around to see none other than Ramsay Bolton.

"What are you—?"

"Same thing as you," Ramsay said cheerily, tipping his head to one side. The dog, Helicent, and another were at his side, unleashed, looking patiently up at their master as though waiting for an order. "I was just leaving, of course, but imagine my surprise when I see the Young Wolf out and walking!" He grinned. "Didn't you die? And you—" he turned to Jon, "Didn't I kill you?"

Jon stared at him in shock. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“Are you deaf?” Damon stepped up beside Ramsay, blonde hair pulled back into a low, loose ponytail. “I saw your head, how’d you manage to get it back on that body of yours? And as for the little wolf-“ He turned to Ramsay with a grin. “If he’s alive, why does the bitch cry about him so much?” 

"Oh, that's right!" Ramsay said, turning to Damon. "It was a lie, wasn't it? His face, though, really! Gods, you two should have seen his face when I told him!"

"You told Theon we were dead? What in the seven hells?" Robb demanded. 

"Not just you!" he said gleefully. "Sansa's been raped, and his little bitch puppy? She's dead too!"

“Oh, Sansa. What a brilliant fuck she was.” Damon teased, draping an arm over Ramsay’s shoulders and leaning against him. “That really broke it, didn’t it? Wasn’t that when you said it started doing all that rhyming bullshit?”

“Don’t talk about Sansa like that. Don’t fucking go near Sansa.” Jon warned, hands curled into fists at his sides. Ghost stood next to him, tense and ready to pounce. 

"It?" Robb echoed. "Th-Theon? Don't call him an it!"

"Why? It's certainly not a functioning human anymore. It's my bitch."

“It’s starting to not even resemble a human being.” Damon snorted, quite obviously amused by the conversation. 

“What are you doing to him?” Jon snapped. Ghost growled softly and Jon put a hand on his back to calm him. 

"Oh, a little bit of this, little bit of that... Everything, really." Ramsay smirked and Robb lunged toward him. Jon seized the back of his jacket to stop him. Damon and the dogs moved forward warningly. 

"Let him go, Bolton," Robb snarled. 

"Why? It's so much fun... It cries so much!"

“It’s so fucking noisy.” Damon agreed. “And even if Rams here did let it go, I don’t think it would. It loves its master.” 

“Stop calling Theon an it!” Jon demanded, glaring at the both of them. 

"What are you going to do about it? It doesn't even see itself as anything but my bitch— it calls me master," Ramsay bragged. Robb turned away, trying to bring his emotions in check. He wanted to pummel him, beat him right into the gravel.

“It’s a good fuck, though. I’ll give you that, Stark.” Damon taunted, shifting his gaze from Robb to Jon. “Though, both of you would know that already, wouldn’t you?” 

Jon felt his cheeks flush dark pink. They knew- had Theon told them? He couldn’t imagine Theon telling Ramsay, it didn’t make sense. He glared at Damon but said nothing. 

Robb looked at Jon sharply. "Both of us?" Jon didn't look at him, but he was blushing, and that was all the answer Robb needed. "When?" he asked quietly.

Damon and Ramsay both looked very pleased at the tension between the two brothers. 

“I- uh- mid December, I think... you were- you had Jeyne over.” He looked over to Robb, visibly ashamed and embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” 

Robb blinked. "Okay. All right. We'll talk about that later, I guess..."

"No, no, please! Talk about it now! This is fun— almost as fun as fucking it." Ramsay bounced on the balls of his feet, watching them eagerly.

Jon turned to glare at Ramsay once again. “Fucking it? You rape him! You keep him fucking chained up and rape him!”

“Untrue.” Damon reached down to toy with his whip, coiled up and hooked onto his belt. “It begs for Rams constantly.” 

"No, he doesn't," Robb denied. "That's not possible. He wants to get out, he wants to come home–"

"It is home," Ramsay interrupted. His icy eyes bore into them, and he smirked wider, flashing white teeth. "Its home is with me."

“It was scared that Ramsay might get hurt on a hunt. Ramsay!” Damon laughed, bright and full of cheer. “It fucking apologized for bleeding when we hurt it. That doesn’t sound like it wants to leave, sounds more like it wants desperately to stay.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Jon spat, taking a deep breath when he realized he was shaking, face flushed red with anger. 

"What have you done to him?" Robb demanded. Grey Wind let out a rumbling growl, stirring at Robb's feet. Ghost was hunched, glaring. "What did you to do break him like that?"

"Oh, we haven't broken it. Not yet," Ramsay said. "We're playing, right now. It's almost there, though, don't worry. You might be able to have it back, then."

Damon’s grin faltered and he looked at Ramsay, annoyed. “You’re giving it back? I thought we’d get to hunt it?”

“You will not hunt Theon.” Jon warned, Ghost growling as well. 

"I said might," Ramsay said, shrugging. "It might get too weak to be hunted. We don't want a boring hunt, do we?"

"You're not going to hunt him!" Robb snapped. "Awfully bold of you to be talking about those, isn't it? Right here where anybody could overhear?"

“And do what? Tell the cops? His dad has money, little wolf, and there’s no evidence.” Damon took a step forward, looking Robb up and down. “I gotta say, I like mine a bit more slim, but I see why the bitch liked you so much.”

“Don’t fucking look at him like that!” Jon’s volume raised and Ghost took a slow step forward. 

"You want him, too?" Ramsay asked. He looked Robb up and down, almost critically. "I think he would be even more difficult to break, don't you think? But I do like a challenge..."

Grey Wind moved to stand in front of Robb, beside Ghost, both their hackles rising.

“Nah, not my type.” Damon shrugged. “If you’d let me at your pet again, I wouldn’t have to consider other options...” 

“He- you can’t just pass him around?!” Jon didn’t understand why the two men were still talking to them, other than to upset them. And Jon was upset. He couldn’t imagine Theon breaking in the ways they described, but... with all Ramsay had put him through that Robb knew of, he could only imagine how hard it would be to endure. 

"Why not? That's what you do with toys, isn't it?" He patted Helicent's head and she licked his hand. "Heli agrees. It's not fair to hog your toys. Didn't you learn that?" Ramsay tsked. "What did your father teach you?"

"My father—"

"Is dead, yes." Ramsay looked at Robb boredly. "That's old news."

“What is wrong with you?!” Jon was itching to punch he smug look off Ramsay’s face.

“Gods, you are angry, aren’t you?” Damon’s voice was sickly sweet as he smiled at Jon. “Jealous that you can’t have a turn at him anymore?” 

"You're the ones who can't appreciate a good toy when you have it," Ramsay retorted. "There's not much else it's good for, I'll tell you that. All it does is cry, even when I'm fucking it... Maybe it was broken before I even got it." He cast an amused glance at Robb. "Maybe that was your doing?"

Robb tensed. "No," he said firmly. "No, you hurt him, you-- You torture him!"

"And you didn't?”

Jon stared at him in silent shock, the four of them silent for a few moments before Damon threw his head back and laughed. 

Robb was silent for a short while. He wanted so desperately to tell Bolton that he was wrong, that it was all his doing, but that persistent little voice in his head, a voice so similar to his father's, reminded him that it was true, that he had hurt Theon before Bolton had ever sunk his fangs in, that it was he himself who had driven Theon to Bolton. Even when Theon had come home, Robb couldn't protect him. He had failed Theon, more times than he could count, and he was failing him again.

Ramsay watched happily for a moment or two, then spoke. "Think of it this way, little wolf. I fucked it first," he began, counting off on his fingers, "Snow fucked it second, and you fucked it third... Little late to the party, don't you think?" He smirked. "Don't worry, little wolf, you were still its first. You were the first to know it, weren't you? You were the first it loved, too... And you were the first to make it cry. You were the first to make it feel low, unloved, unwanted..."

"Shut up," Robb said quietly. "He... He knows that's not true. I was stupid, I fucked up, but he knows--"

"It hangs awake at night, crying to itself, mourning the supposed death of a boy who it thinks never wanted it to begin with," Ramsay interrupted harshly, stepping in as close to Robb as the dogs would allow him. "It cries for somebody who used it worse than I ever did. Isn't that funny? You think you're better than me."

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Jon snarled, glaring at Ramsay, hatred clouding his expression. “Robb didn’t mean to hurt him. You do. You- you fucking beat him, you rape him, Robb was trying to protect him. Robb made a stupid mistake, you purposely hurt him, you think it’s fun. You let your boys-“ He gestured to Damon, “-at him. You can’t compare what Robb did to what you did- what you’re doing.”

“Oh, protective, are we?” Damon purred, wiggling his eyebrows and looking at Ramsay. “Look at the little wolfies, fighting about the little bitch strung up in your basement.” 

"I don't know what they're fighting for," Ramsay replied. "What they want, what they miss? There's nothing left of that. It's just my empty, weak, begging toy now." 

"He's not yours!" Robb snapped. His hand thrust into his pocket, all thoughts flying out of his head. "Didn't you notice?"

"What?" Ramsay looked sharply at him. "Notice what?"

"He took it off!" Robb said, laughing. "Isn't that like denouncing you, or something?" He whipped the necklace out of his pocket, and Ramsay's eyes zeroed in on it. They narrowed.

Jon looked at Robb, slightly horrified. Was he even thinking? Did he realize how angry Ramsay would be with Theon for losing the necklace? For taking it off? Jon knew his half-brother was angry and scared, he was too, but Jon could tell instantly that pulling out the necklace was not a smart thing to do. 

Damon’s smile grew as he watched the changing expression on Ramsay’s face. “We’re gonna have a fun night now, hm?” He murmured, just loud enough for Ramsay to hear. 

Naturally, Ramsay was fuming, and he lunged forward to snatch the necklace. Robb hefted it out of his reach, and Grey Wind shoved his bodily weight against Ramsay, pushing him back with another rumbling growl. With his eyes on Ramsay, Robb yanked the chain, snapping the clasp, and threw the necklace to the ground. He ground it into the gravel under his boot, sneering. 

"He's not yours. He'll never be yours."

"I suggest you stop talking, little wolf, unless you want your head fixed to a spike next. Just like daddy, hm?" Ramsay stepped forward again, kicking Grey Wind so the wolfdog fell back with a yelp, backing against Robb's legs again. Ghost bristled, ready to savage his brother's attacker, but Jon grabbed his collar before he could move.

"You can't touch me," Robb said brazenly.

“You two need to leave.” Jon’s voice was cold. “Now.” 

Damon’s grin only grew as he watched the conflict, looking down at the now dirty chain in the dirt and gravel. “That little gem is as dirty as your pet now, Rams.” 

"About as scarred, too, I think." Ramsay made no move to fetch the necklace, now only eyeing it with anger and distaste. "I hope you're happy now, Stark. I'll have to a buy a new one for my next toy, rather than reusing." 

"He told you to leave!" Robb snapped. Ramsay hummed to himself, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"You think you're invincible, don't you? Nobody can touch the Young Wolf." He shook his head, never taking his eyes off Robb. "I think you need to learn your lesson. But," he said, turning suddenly away, "my pet is expecting me back, isn't it? I suppose I ought to feed it at some point this week..." He didn't look back, but Robb and Jon's eyes were widened with horror. "I'll see you around, little wolves. Better keep one eye open."

Damon blew them a kiss before turning and following Ramsay. 

Jon felt sick. “He’s not- he’s not actually starving him, is he?” Theon was thin enough to begin with, never seemed to gain weight no matter how much food Catelyn tried to feed him and how much food he bought when driving around with Robb. 

"I don't doubt that he is," Robb said. The adrenaline, the fury, was dying down, and he fell back to lean against the side of the Jeep, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He shuddered. He... He had just.... He looked down at the necklace, laying curled and lifeless in the gravel, glimmering innocently even through the dirt and dust now caked on it. "I just fucked up again. He's going to get hurt because of me."

Jon looked at him helplessly. Robb slid down the side of the Jeep, sinking to sit on the gravel, his knees to his chest.

"Gods dammit!" he swore, slamming his fist to the ground.

Jon moved to sit beside him, wishing he could say something to make the situation better. Instead, he said “I don’t know what to do.” Ghost sat next to him, licking his cheek, and Jon wrapped an arm around the wolf. 

They sat in silence, watching the dogs race around the park, but the excursion had lost any thrill. Grey Wind lay down in the dusty gravel, defeated, looking morosely up at his master. A child in a puffy jacket dashed by, clutching a massive pink ice cream cone, shrieking with joy as a Labrador gamboled alongside her. She could have been Arya, Robb thought, years ago. She could have been Arya, even now, if their father hadn't died. 

"I want him to come home," he murmured, too quiet for Jon to hear. Grey Wind whined and leaned his head against Robb's hand. He stroked his ears slowly. "Do you think he'll ever get to come home?"

Jon smiled weakly as Ghost moved to lay in his lap, and he leaned his shoulder against Robb’s. “He can’t keep Theon forever, can he? He’ll give him back someday, even if he is... broken.”

"Or, he'll hunt him. You heard him. He thinks Theon is his toy. He thinks he's broken him." Robb turned his gaze upwards, blue eyes reflecting the sky. "I know he hasn't. Theon is strong, he'll... He'll be okay. We'll rescue him."

“He may be strong, but with everything Ramsay’s putting him through... and he thinks we’re dead, Robb. I don’t- I don’t want to be morbid but... he doesn’t really have a family. His dad is shit, his mom is.... y’know... and his sister and him don’t really get along. What does he- what does he have left to live for?” 

"Himself. We... We had plans, you know? Plans for— We were going to get an apartment, somewhere else, and go to college and just exist, and get away from everything. I couldn't do that now, anyways, but... He has himself, and Queenie, and... and us. He wouldn't leave us. He wouldn't leave Queenie."

“He thinks we’re dead. You, me, and Queenie.” Jon repeated. “Leaving us isn’t an option for him, because he thinks we’re already gone. He probably thinks he has nowhere else to go.” 

"Fuck..." Robb hissed, shaking the thoughts from his head. "Fuck..." He turned his head towards Jon, eyes narrowing marginally. "So, you fucked him? And you saw fit to keep it a secret?"

Jon groaned, tipping his head back against the car and closing his eyes. “Fuck, Robb, is that really important right now?” 

"No," he agreed. He sat back and thought wistfully of simpler days, when the three of them played together, building snowwolves and throwing snowballs at passersby. They got away with so much, back then, either because of their pure boyish charm or their fathers' influence... Who knew. He missed those days. 

Now they were all grown up, and fucking each other. He let out a wry chuckle. Grey Wind nosed at his hand again, whining, and Robb shooed him off to play. He pranced off, tailed by Ghost, and the pair of them halted at the edge of the grass, looking back over their shoulders wonderingly. 

"We should go play," Robb said after a moment. "Our kids are getting impatient."


	53. Chapter 53

He was so hungry. He was able to ignore it most of the time, but it had been a long time since he’d eaten- even longer since he’d eaten real food. He was hurting and alone, still hanging from the fucking ceiling, and he’d lost feeling in his arms a while ago. He didn’t even have it in him to whimper or cry. He was too exhausted all the time, and anyway, master would be mad

"Hungry, pup?" called a soft, sweet voice from outside, announcing the arrival of his master. Ramsay swung the door open, holding a strawberry banana smoothie in a tall glass. Condensation slid tantalizingly down the side of the glass, and a white bendy straw poked through the frothy liquid.

Theon eyed it tiredly, hungrily, then looked back up into his master’s eyes. He nodded weakly. Weak, weak, weak. His eyes had trouble adjusting the the light, but they did soon enough. 

Ramsay made as though to bring it to him, to feed his parched lips, but then, with a cruel smirk on his lips, he poured the smoothie into the dingy toilet. He feigned a gasp. "Oops..."

Theon just whimpered, his stomach growling loudly. He hung his head, staring down at the floor instead of at his master.

"That's too bad," Ramsay continued, shrugging and setting the glass down on the floor. "Hey, pup, can you tell me something?"

He slowly lifted his head back up, looking his master in the eye. He tilted his head, blinking tiredly. 

"Where's your necklace, pup?" he asked, his voice soft and silky. "Where's the necklace I gave you?"

Theon furrowed his brows. What was his master talking about? It was right around his neck, just like always-

Oh. 

He’d left it at the Stark house, on Robb’s dresser. He’d completely forgotten. He’d grown so used to it around his neck that he just... forgot. He tried to apologize with his eyes, whimpering and trying to say sorry. 

"With the Starks!" Ramsay roared. He grabbed Theon by the muzzle, ramming his head back against the pole, and watched his eyes screw shut in pain. "You took it off, you miserable—" He slammed his head back again.

Theon just whimpered pathetically, as he always did. He was going to be punished, beaten, whatever Ramsay saw fit. He couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. The pain, it was there, but it was... normal. 

Theon was limp, resigned, and Ramsay should have been proud but the sight only served to further enrage him. "With the Starks!" he repeated, everything in him flashing red, pulsing with the desire to beat Theon, to tear him apart, make him bleed, scream, beg, cry.... He couldn't see straight for a second, and his grip tightened in Theon's hair as he steadied himself. "You're lucky if I don't kill you."

Kill me, Theon thought, meeting Ramsay’s furious gaze. There was no reason to live, except for his master, and his master was angry with him. So angry, furious, because Theon had snuck out and then lost his necklace. Because Theon was a sneak. Weak. 

Sneak, sneak, it rhymes with weak, Theon thought. He was looking at Ramsay, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. Weak. Freak. 

It was almost as if he could forget the pain in his body when he played his little rhymes over and over in his head, reminded himself of what he was. Weak, pathetic, bleak and meek and such a freak. He even looked like a freak. He hadn’t seen a mirror in a long while but he knew, he knew, he could look down and see his own ribs, his skinny legs and bony feet, could look up and see his hands, so pale that his veins were all easily visible. His hair, he was sure, had to be a terrible mess- greasy and matted, dull and without volume- bleak. Bleak, bleak, it rhymes with... weak. 

He deserved to die. He was a foul, weak, reeking creature, a sneak of a pet, bleak and boring- a freak. He was nothing but an inconvenience to his master, and he was always so bad, always getting other people hurt. He felt almost like he was floating, detached. He stopped trying to look at his master and let his head hang as much as it could with that hand in his hair, because he was meek. Meek, meek, and weak, and a freak, and bleak and a sneak, reek, weak, meek, freak. A shiver ran through his body. He was bad. His master should kill him. 

"You took off my gift to you, denounced me-- Did you forget who you belong to?" Ramsay shouted, punctuating each word with a sharp blow to Theon's frail chest, right where his name was carved. "Do I need to remind you? Is that what you want? Is that what you need? A reminder?" He let go of Theon's hair and drove his fist into his gut, sunken as it was. If he had a knife.... His gaze darted to the glass that had held the smoothie.

Without the hand in his hair, Theon let his head hang completely, stars dancing in his vision. He didn’t even feel real, it almost felt as if he were out of his body, just watching everything that happened to him. He was ready to die now, he thought. He’d be with Robb, and Jon- and eventually his mom, who’d maybe remember him in whatever afterlife there was. Yes, he wouldn’t mind dying. At least if he were dead, everything would stop hurting. Six feet under the ground, no one could see how weak, how much of a freak, how bleak he was. 

Ramsay ripped the muzzle down his face, the straps straining against his cheeks, and it hung awkwardly over his chin. Next came the gag, the metal pulled down from his mouth to sit painfully over Theon's chin. His other hand stroked down Theon's backside, seizing the tail and yanking it out. 

"Hold this, won't you?" Ramsay growled, stuffing the plug into Theon's mouth and reaching down to unbuckle his pants.

That brought him back down to Earth. Theon gagged, jaw stretched uncomfortably to accommodate the size of the plug. Ramsay had taken it- that had just been inside him? He was disgusted but he didn’t dare spit it out. He’d just deal with an aching jaw and the humiliation of having his fucking butt plug put in his mouth. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

He was supposed to kill him, he said he might kill him, why wouldn’t he do it? Why wouldn’t he just end it? Did his master have to keep humiliating him further? 

He didn’t want to be fucked, he didn’t, not at all, not now. He felt his body tremble and he stared down at the floor, wishing he could just dissociate from the situation, wishing he could detach from himself once again. 

Ramsay shoved into him, gaze hot on his skin, raking up and down his exposed body. "That's it, pup, don't cry... I might forgive you, if you don't..." He leaned in, nipped along Theon's throat, and pulled Theon's hips against his own. "It was Stark's fault, wasn't it? All Stark's fault that you ran away from me, denounced me... Don't worry, pup. He's dead now." He bit down, hard, sucking a dark bruise into his skin.

Theon blinked rapidly, trying to hold back his tears. The bite hurt, Ramsay’s hands on him hurt, everything ached and all he could do was whimper and take whatever Ramsay gave him. He didn’t want to think about Robb, he didn’t, he didn’t want to think about anything at all and he wished Ramsay would just follow through on his threat and kill him. He was so bad. He was a terrible pet, a terrible friend, couldn’t even make his master happy. Couldn’t even be grateful for how kind his master was to him. He sobbed weakly around the plug, muffled and soft, closing his eyes tight to keep in his tears. 

"What'd you take it off for?" Ramsay murmured, his lips trailing to the shell of Theon's ear. "Was it killing the mood? Killing the Young Wolf's boner? You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you? Even betray your master..." He nipped at his ear, pushing Theon so his back bumped against the pole, and he hitched his hips further up, ignoring the tears slowly making their way down Theon's cheeks.

He didn’t even remember taking it off. Did his master really think he and Robb had sex when he ran away? He should’ve never ran in the first place. He trembled as Ramsay moved him around. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want his master to fuck him. His master was angry with him, he was doing it because he was angry, not out of love. Didn’t his master see that he was trying his best to be good? Why was he being punished for something he did so long ago? 

"Whenever I think I may be able to trust you," Ramsay spat, thrusting hard as Theon squirmed in pain under his hands. "You go and do shit like this! Here I was, thinking it broke, or you simply lost it, and I was prepared to let it go! But no! It was with the fucking Starks."

Theon just sobbed, squirmed and sobbed and squeezed his eyes closed tight. It hurt, it hurt so badly and he was sure he had to be bleeding, he was sure Ramsay was tearing him back open like he always did, he could feel his blood hot and wet leaking out of him. How did Ramsay know? How did he find out? He himself had forgotten about it- how could he remember anything anymore? He could remember pain, sharp and dull and aching, he could remember to call Ramsay master and remember that he loved his master. How was he supposed to remember a tiny necklace? What was a small gem that looked like a drop of blood, compared to all of his own blood that’d been spilt on this basement floor? 

Ramsay didn't speak again until he had finished, leaving Theon bleeding and crying silently. He pulled the tail plug from his mouth and put it back in him, not caring to be gentle. "You're a disappointment to me, pup," Ramsay said softly. "You know that? I don't like hurting you, you know... You force me to do this. You force me to have to punish you."

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Theon cried, still not looking at him. He was so bad, so bad, his master had to hurt him because he was so stupid and dumb and bad and needed to be punished. “I- you should- you should kill me. I-I’m so bad, I’m so bad, I don’t deserve...” His master was kind. Even when everything was bleeding and hurting and aching, it was for his own good, his master had to teach him. He had to be taught. “I’m sorry I’m so bad, a-and so stupid and dumb, a-and I don’t deserve my m-master...”

"You don't," Ramsay agreed. He patted Theon's head, stroking the velvety ears like he would with a real dog. "But we're working on that, right? You can be a good pup, like you were, can't you?"

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” Theon insisted, trembling at the gentle touches after having been so roughly taken. He didn’t deserve them. He didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t. “I-I’m just stupid, and weak,” Weak, so weak, so terribly weak that even a pat on the head made him tremble with fear. 

"You'll do better," Ramsay assured him, though his hand fell heavier on his head. "Like you did last time. Before you ran." He patted him once more before sliding the gag and muzzle back into place. There were red marks, indentations in his skin, where they had been. Ramsay rubbed a thumb along one, clucking his tongue, before he turned away and retrieved the smoothie glass from the floor. "Be good, pup. I'll be back."

Theon didn’t even acknowledge Ramsay’s leaving. He was trying. He was trying so hard but he was so bad, naturally so bad and he’d never be able to make his master happy. 

"What in the seven hells happened today, Ramsay?" Skinner asked as he stormed by. Ramsay didn't answer him, and disappeared outside with the dogs. Skinner stared after him. "What..." He shook his head and reached into the fridge, pulling out one of the dog food smoothies Ramsay had had them prepare. He looked at it and grimaced, then shook his head again, grabbed a water bottle, and headed off to the basement to see just what had happened.

Theon looked up hopefully when he heard someone coming downstairs, but the hopeful look vanished when he saw it was Skinner and not his master. His face flushed and he looked back down. It wasn’t like Skinner hadn’t seen him like this before, but everything felt so raw and terrible right now and he felt horribly ashamed of himself, disgusted with himself. His master was so angry with him, he had his master’s seed inside him but it was there as more of a punishment than anything else, mixing with blood and leaking out of him around the plug. His master thought he was unfaithful, he thought he was bad, and Theon didn’t want to see anyone right now. 

Skinner looked him up and down, expressionless. "I don't know what you did to make him mad, kid, but gods." He stepped closer, pulled off the muzzle and gag, and let them drop to the floor.

“I just wanna be good.” Theon whimpered, tears dripping down his cheeks. “I-I- I just wanna make master happy, b-but I’m bad, I’m so bad, I just wanna be good... I’m weak. Weak, rhymes with freak... ‘m not good... ‘m a freak...” 

"Maybe you are," Skinner said, nodding once. "Maybe not. It depends... Tell me what happened."

“Th-the necklace, the necklace, I-I left it at the Stark’s a-and he knows, he knows, I’m so bad, so b-bad, bad and weak, weak, weak, weak...” Theon babbled, body still trembling. 

Skinner stiffened. Ramsay had...? Really? But Theon hadn't seemed to put any thought to how Ramsay had found out, and Skinner wasn't about to foil Ramsay's built lies. "Did you do it on purpose? Did you forget it, or abandon it?"

“N-no- no, I forgot.” Theon answered honestly. “I’m so stupid, I’m- I’m so dumb and stupid a-and now master is mad, because I’m dumb and weak, weak and bad, I’m- I’m so bad, so bad!” He burst into a fresh set of tears. 

"Stop crying," Skinner said curtly. "He'll forgive you soon enough, he always does. I don't know why," he added, "but he does. He'll get over it in a day or two."

“I don’t deserve him!” Theon wailed, letting his head hang, staring teary-eyed at the floor. “I’m a freak. A freak. Freak, freak, and he-he hates me, I’m such a freak, I’m so bad! M-meek and weak, weak and meek, weak, freak, bleak...” 

"Why do you keep rhyming like that?" Skinner asked, annoyed and a little unnerved. "Did Ramsay ask you to do that?"

“Weak, weak, it rhymes with freak.” Theon babbled, ignoring the question. He was feeling dizzy, floaty. “Freak, bleak, meek. Reek. Reek, reek, it rhymes with freak...” 

"Stop that," he ordered. Skinner unscrewed the lid of the water bottle and held it to his lips. "Quit it, just drink, okay?"

Theon ignored the water, tilting his head just slightly away from it. “Rhymes with leak.” His gaze shifted to the water, eyes clouded and unfocused, red-rimmed and wet from tears. “Creek. Reek, reek, it rhymes with weak.” 

"Reek means stink, it rhymes with drink," Skinner interrupted, voice harsh, pushing the mouth of the bottle against his lips.

Theon tipped his head away again. “Reek, reek, rhymes with freak. Weak, leak, meek. Reek, reek, reek. Rhymes with weak.” Where was his master? Why was Skinner down there instead? “Weak, weak, ‘m weak, need my master- need him...” 

"You don't need him," Skinner disagreed. "You need this water. Come on, kid, drink." He patted Theon's head with great reluctance and tipped the bottle just enough so that a bit of the cool liquid splashed over his parched lips.

Theon didn’t realize how thirsty he was until the water was on his tongue. He wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle and drank, eyes falling shut. It was the best water he’d ever tasted- though that was probably due to the fact that he hadn’t had anything else to eat or drink in days. 

"That's it," Skinner praised. "Not too fast. I'm not cleaning it up if you puke." He tipped the bottle away, making Theon take several deep breaths before he allowed him to continue drinking.

Theon finished the water bottle rather quickly, noting that he could feel the water sloshing around in his empty stomach and it wasn’t very comfortable at all. He grimaced. “Master... I want my master.” 

"You can't have him right now. Here," Skinner said. He tossed the empty bottle aside and offered Theon the brown 'smoothie'. "Drink this too, okay kid? You'll feel better."

“No.” Theon huffed, tears welling up in his eyes again. He wanted his master, how hard was that for Skinner to understand? He didn’t want Skinner or his stupid smoothies, he wanted master- just master, and no one else. 

"You will drink it," Skinner snapped, forcing the straw to Theon's mouth. "Or else I'll tell Ramsay you were bad and to stay away even longer. Would you like that?"

Theon’s lower lip trembled and then he was crying again- pathetic, weak little sobs, frail shoulders shaking with each sound he made. He reluctantly wrapped his lips around the straw and took a sip, forcing it down, trying not to gag. He couldn’t hold his breath to ignore the smell, not when he was crying, and having to smell it only made it taste worse. 

As he slowly drank it down, tears rolled down his face, and Skinner was twitching with annoyance. He wished Theon would stop crying—did every little thing make him wail nowadays? Ramsay had broken him, sure, but this was just excessive. He watched silently as Theon slurped, swallowing back his own revulsion as the blended-thin dog food disappeared up the straw. The other broken toys had been better behaved, he recalled. They hadn't cried or made demands, they merely existed until Ramsay deemed it unnecessary. Skinner thought on this for a moment, surveying Theon. How much time did he have left, now? Ramsay could get bored of him today, or tomorrow, or it could even be weeks. 

Skinner pulled the glass away as Theon drained the final dregs. "Better?"

Theon did his best not to gag again, but he did anyway, keeping his lips pressed tightly together as he forced back down the bit he’d puked back up into his mouth. “I-I want my master.” He whimpered after a few moments, the look on his face showing that his crying was about to grow much louder if he didn’t get what he wanted. 

"We all want things. It doesn't mean we get them." Skinner reached up to unhook Theon, letting him sink gracelessly to the ground for several blessed moments before Skinner was tugging him up again, herding him towards the toilet.

Theon whined and then choked out a sob. “I want him! I-I want my- my master, I want him!” He insisted, squirming in Skinner’s grip. He didn’t want Skinner touching him, he didn’t like it, and his heart ached in his chest as he thought about how long it could be before he saw his master again. Sometimes it was a short wait, other times it seemed like days, and it was so hard when all Theon wanted was to be with him. 

"I know you do," Skinner groaned, tired of hearing it. He reached down and slipped out the tail so it wouldn't drag in the toilet water, and dropped Theon unceremoniously on the toilet seat. He turned and took several paces away to give him a modicum of privacy

Theon finished up relatively quickly- it wasn’t as if he had much of anything in his body in the first place- before standing up on shaky legs, flushing, and stumbling weakly forward to take the tail plug from Skinner. He let himself fall onto the floor, relieved for the opportunity to rest his legs, and reached behind himself to wiggle the plug back in. He was so used to it, it didn’t really hurt to put it in anymore, except when it pushed up against the healing tear on the rim of his ass. 

Skinner sat down on the floor beside him, regarding him silently. He almost missed the kid before Ramsay had won, back when he was a mouthy little hellion, before he just begged and whined all the time. Theon was laid on the floor, eyes slipped closed, lips parted a hairs breadth. Skinner figured he was exhausted, and he didn't have much else going on at the moment, so he may as well babysit the kid while he slept. He pulled his phone from his pocket and deigned to browse the internet. 

Meanwhile, Ramsay had returned from outside with the dogs, and sat once more in his bed with Helicent at his side. He fiddled with Theon's phone, viewing his old texts and pictures with Robb with an amused smirk. He tapped over to the voicemail app, seeking to listen to that heartbroken message from Yara once more, only to see a new message from the day before that he had never opened. He opened it, bright with eager anticipation.

"'Thee, she—'" Yara's voice hiccuped here, the girl clearly having been crying when she left the voicemail. "'Mom had another stroke... She didn't make it. Please call me, Thee. I need you.'"

Ramsay tossed the phone aside, laughing, and fell back against his pillows with a euphoric grin. "Oh, pup," he murmured joyously. "Tomorrow...."


	54. Chapter 54

"I have a surprise for you, little pup," called out Ramsay's voice, a mocking sing-song, as he traipsed down the stairs. "Aren't you excited?" A moment later, the door was swinging open and Ramsay flicked the lights on. He let Theon down from the ceiling hook, watching as he slumped to the floor, and he crouched down in front of him. He held Theon's phone in his hand, and with the other, he none-too-gently maneuvered the muzzle and gag out of the way so Theon could talk.

“Master...” Theon murmured, looking dazedly up at him. He was so tired, so sore, but his master was there- right there in front of him. He scooted closer, trying to learn against him. 

"Don't you want your surprise?" Ramsay asked, leaning back and showing Theon his phone, screen open and displaying the voicemail inbox.

Theon squinted at the brightly lit screen, vaguely making out his sister’s name. “Y-Yara? Yara called?” 

"Oh, she's called a couple of times. Want to hear some of the voicemails?" Ramsay teased a finger over the first, the one telling of his mother's first stroke. "They're quite good, I promise."

“What’s she- what’s she saying?” Theon tried to scoot toward him again, wanting to be close to his master. 

"I'll play it for you," Ramsay said, and he tapped on it. Yara's voice, stricken, played out:

"Thee? It's mom... she's really sick. Please call me back, if you can. I don't think she's going to get better this time."

"Want to hear the next one?" Ramsay asked, grinning.

Theon scooted even closer, looking at the phone with wide eyes. “M-my mom is sick again? She- master- what if she- what if she needs help?” 

"Keep listening," Ramsay said, and tapped the next voicemail. 

"'Theon,'" came Yara's voice. "'Please answer me. I know you went willingly this time, why won't you answer me?'"

Ramsay's grin grew wider and he played the next without prompt.

"'Thee, she's in the hospital. She's really sick, I don't think... Please come visit, I don't know if she's going to recover.'"

Theon was starting to tremble. “Ram- Master- Master, can I call her? P-please, if my mom is so sick, please?” 

"Just wait, pup," Ramsay soothed. He tapped the next one.

"Please call me, you have to call, mom— she's awake, Thee, she recognized me,'" her voice said, gasping, stunned. "'She recognized me and she's asking for you, please Theon, please call me back.'"

"Hear that? She's asking for you!" Ramsay said, beaming.

“Oh no- n-no- Mama- you gotta let me call her, that’s my mama, she needs me, she- she needs me!” Theon insisted weakly, eyes wide. His mom wanted him, his mom was asking for him- if she recognized Yara, she’d recognize him. He’d have his mama back at last. 

"Wait, pup— there's one more," Ramsay said, hushed. "Want to hear it?" Without waiting for an answer, and with an ever-growing grin, Ramsay played the final voicemail. 

"'Thee, she— Mom had another stroke. She didn't make it. Please call me, Thee. I need you.'"

"Oh," Ramsay breathed. "Poor pup. Poor pup's mama died..."

Theon went silent, staring at the phone, and the last spark of fire in his eyes went out completely. His mother was dead. She’d asked for him, and he hadn’t been there, and now she was dead. Dead. Just like Robb, and Jon, and Queenie. And he wasn’t there for her when she passed. 

Tears didn’t even come to his eyes, they wouldn’t, and all he could do was stare at the glowing screen of the phone in silence. Dead. His mother died, and he hadn’t even been there for her. What reason left was there to keep fighting? Truly, it’d be best for Ramsay to just kill him. He was nothing but a burden with no one else out there for him. His world had become that little room in the basement, and there truly was nothing left for him outside of it. 

"Poor little pup," Ramsay murmured, stroking Theon's filthy, matted hair. "You've truly lost everything, haven't you? Everything besides... me. Whatever will you do?" He kissed his cheek, sweet and chaste.

Theon shifted his gaze down to the floor. He had only his master. He didn’t make a single sound of reply, his thin hands twitching in his lap, whole body still trembling. He had nothing, nothing at all left. Just his master. Only his master. 

"That's it, pup, don't cry about it. After all, there's nothing you can do, right? She's gone, and you weren't with her, because you're here. With me. Where you belong." He patted his head, firm yet affectionate. "Isn't that right, pet?"

Theon nodded silently. Gone. Everyone was gone except for his master, his kind master, his gentle master. He belonged in that small room in the basement, chained up and aching so that he’d remember who he was, where he was, and how to behave. He was a pet, a toy, a plaything. He was there for Ramsay’s amusement and nothing else. There was no other reason for him to be alive. 

His hands moved up to rest on his thighs and he clawed at them, just a little bit, long, dirty nails digging into the skin enough to bleed. He let out a shaky sigh, a relieved sigh. He didn’t want to think about his mother. He didn’t want to think about all the people he’d lost, or about the life he’d lived before Ramsay. 

"That's it, pup," Ramsay repeated. "Good boy. Such a good pup." He took Theon's face in his hands and turned him to look upwards at him. There was no light in his eyes, dull and green, and his cheeks were sunken underneath the unkempt scruff of his facial hair. "You need me, don't you? You love your master, like a good pup should."

He nodded again, looking at his master. “Yes. I-I love my master.” He replied quietly, just a small tremble to his voice. “I need you.” He could feel the tiny rivulets of blood dripping down the sides of his thighs, dead skin and blood caking under his nails along with the filth that was already there. 

"I know, pup." Ramsay kissed his forehead and pulled his hands from his thighs, holding them in his own. "Why don't you come upstairs? I'll make you a milkshake. Would you like that, pet?"

“Yes.” Theon replied simply, hands shaking even as Ramsay held them. It felt wrong. He so often craved Ramsay’s gentle touch, but now that he had it, it felt so wrong. He wanted to dig his nails back into his skin, to distract himself with the ache. 

"Come on, come with me, little pup." He helped him stand, let him leave heavily against him, and led him from the room. When they reached the base of the stairs, Ramsay lifted him effortlessly and carried him up, letting him down again when they reached the kitchen.

"Sit," he said, gesturing towards a chair. "I'll make you a shake, okay? What flavor?"

“Any.” Theon sat, staring down at his lap and moving his hands to rest atop his thighs again, to claw at the already raw scratches he’d created just a little bit earlier. 

Ramsay glanced at him, faintly annoyed, and busied himself with making a vanilla milkshake, the easiest flavor. He topped the glass with a dollop of whipped cream and set it in front of him, a pink straw poking through. "Here you go, pup," he said. He took Theon's hands away from his thighs, grip a little tighter than necessary, and he laid them on the table, trapped under his own.

“Thank you.” Theon replied, voice emotionless and weak. His hands twitched beneath Ramsay’s and he stared at the shake, leaning in to take a sip. It tasted good, but his stomach twisted as he swallowed it down, the thick dairy not settling well with him having not eaten any real food in so long. He ignored the discomfort and took another sip. 

"Go slow, so you don't get sick, okay?" Ramsay squeezed his hands, firm yet comforting. "I don't want my sweet pup getting sick."

Yes, his sweet pup, so pretty and pliant. Broken. He considered the possibility of keeping him, letting him grow weaker and weaker, wasting away in the basement until there was nothing left of Theon Greyjoy. He would cut out every last trace of him, making every piece of him into his perfect pet. Ramsay smiled at him, kind and loving.

Theon slowed down as his master had told him, taking small, slow sips, staring blankly at the cup as he did. His master’s affectionate look made his heart flutter, but barely. He would’ve killed for that affection just a few hours ago, but now... he didn’t deserve it. He deserved nothing, none of this good, none of this kindness- he was a wretched thing, a filthy, dependent thing. His hands twitched a bit more strongly. He wanted to bring them back down to his thighs, to claw at his skin, to claw at that layer of filth. He didn’t deserve such gentle treatment.

It was almost a relief when, a little while later, Ramsay brought him back down to be chained up in the basement. It was what he deserved.

"It's not permanent, pup," Ramsay said, masking a lie with a promise. "I'll be back soon."

That wasn't a lie, and the very next day he was visiting again, letting him off his chains and bringing him upstairs. He brushed his teeth, though he still did not get a bath, and gave him a tall glass of water. He watched as Theon drained it in slow, careful sips. 

"That's it. Good pup," he praised, beaming as Theon forced a smile. He returned him to his basement after a couple of hours upstairs, but his blanket was back, and once again he was left free of the ceiling hook. 

The day after, he let him up again, and allowed him to nap on the couch. Kyra lay beside him, her head on his lap, tail wagging. Ramsay watched from his seat in the armchair, eyes narrowed. Damon and Skinner stood nearby, confusedly surveying the scene. 

"Is he free, then?" 

"No," Ramsay replied without looking at either of them. He didn't take his eyes off Theon. "It's broken, now. I'm curious, though... I want to see how long until it loses will to go on. How long until it merely exists? I want to see the empty shell."

“It seems like you’re getting pretty close.” Damon responded, but he kept his voice down as to not wake up Theon. “It’s pathetic. I almost miss seeing it fight and whine.” He wrinkled his nose. “Now he’s just boring and smells bad.” 

"The more potent the smell, the easier it will be for the dogs to smell it. Right, Damon?" He still didn't look over at them. "Besides, the broken ones are always boring at first. It's fun later, when they just let back and let you do whatever you please."

“The sooner the better. I’m getting real sick of it.” Damon crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Theon in disgust. He was honestly shocked that Ramsay let the filthy thing on the couch. 

On the couch, Theon shifted a bit, whimpering in his sleep, hands rested on his legs and curled so that his nails dug into his skin. 

"Skinner," Ramsay said. Skinner nodded brusquely and stepped forward, grabbing Theon's wrists gently and pulling them away from his thighs. Theon twitched, grumbled like he was waking up, and tossed his head. Skinner laid a hand on his shoulder, soothing him to sleep once more. 

"It should be soon," he continued. "Don't worry, Damon. Give it to the end of the month, at most."

“Two more weeks, then.” Damon sighed, annoyed. He’d almost laughed at the sight of Theon clawing at himself, but the visual was quickly ruined by Skinner. “But it fucking reeks. Does it have to be on the couch?” 

"I suppose not," Ramsay drawled. "But, I don't feel like waking it. It whined and clawed itself all day long, you know. Very annoying. Let it sleep, for now."

“Desperate for pain now, huh?” Damon’s smirk grew gradually before he shook his head. “I’m going up to take a shower. Just being around it makes me feel filthy.” 

He turned and left, and Theon did not wake. 

The next few days seemed like nothing, just dark and drifting by. Theon spent most of them asleep on the basement floor, curled under the blanket. Ramsay’s visits blended together in his mind. He barely felt real anymore. 

When Theon was fully awake for the first time in days, Ramsay was there, reaching down to softly pet his hair. 

“I have a treat for you. A reward, for being so good.” 

Theon, though the empty feeling still weighed in his chest, thought the way Ramsay was gently stroking his hair was enough of a reward, and he leaned into the touch. He loved this, loved when Ramsay touched him softly, loved when he was gentle and when he praised him. 

“Don’t you want to know what it is, little pup?” Ramsay crooned, gazing down at him. 

“Y-yes Master.” Theon nodded weakly, looking up into those icy blue eyes. 

Ramsay knelt down beside him, brushing his hair out of his face and tucking it behind one of his ears. “How would you feel, little pup, about being allowed in your master’s bed? Only for a little while, but I could make love to you. I can reward you, and make you feel good.” 

Theon’s eyes widened, heart fluttering in his chest. “Y-yes Master! I-I would love that! If it’s- if it’s okay.” 

Ramsay smiled at him and Theon felt his heart melt as those strong hands moved to take off his collar and the cuffs on his ankles and wrists. The skin beneath was all red and raw and bruised, but Theon had long since grown used to that. He took Ramsay’s hand as they both stood. 

Walking up the stairs was hard. Really hard. He hadn’t been out of the basement in so long- not counting the time when Ramsay made him a milkshake- hadn’t really walked in so long. He spent most of his time with his wrists chained to the ceiling, or lying in a heap on the floor. He limped as he walked, quickly hugging his master’s arm for support as his legs threatened to give out beneath him. He was almost breathless by the time they reached the first floor. Theon was well aware that Ramsay’s bedrooms was in one of the towers in the old house, and the thought of climbing up three more sets of stairs made him dizzy. 

“You’re shaking, puppy.” Ramsay’s lips were curved down into a little frown. “Do you not want your reward?”

“N-no! I mean, yes- I- yes, I want it- I just...” His lower lip trembled and he told himself no, no crying, not when his master was being so kind. “It’s- it’s hard to walk.”

Ramsay gently pulled his arm out of Theon’s grip and took a step back, admiring his naked pet. Theon was filthy, not fit to be seen by anyone, really. His hair was past his shoulders, but it was greasy and matted and no longer in the soft, pretty curls it used to be. His face had not been saved from the effects of his starvation. His cheeks were a bit sunken in, and there were dark, heavy bags under his eyes that seemed to increase in size every day. It all made his eyes look bigger, so wide and pretty, with not a spark left of the old fire in them that had taken so long to put out. His body was so frail, skin pale and ruined with scars and scabs and bruises. 

Ramsay reached out, running his fingers over the pink, puffy scars that formed where he’d written his name with a knife. ‘Ramsay,’ eternally carved into Theon’s flesh. Below that, Theon’s ribs were showing, they stuck out dangerously, and his stomach was nearly concave. His hip bones jutted out, littered with bruises from being roughly grasped. His legs were much too thin, weak and shaking where they used to be strong and muscled. His hands seemed so small, too- especially his left one, now that he’d lost a finger. They were always shaking. Really, Theon in general was always shaking nowadays. 

“I’ll carry you.” Ramsay decided, picking Theon up with ease. He was so light, so fragile, as if Ramsay could break his bones by just touching him. He supposed that wasn’t too far from the truth. 

They were in his room soon enough, with Ramsay gently laying Theon down atop his bed. 

Theon stared up at him reverently as he began to strip. His master was so beautiful, so strong and good, so much better than he deserved. He was worried he was getting the bed dirty, but his master had put him there, so he didn’t dare move. 

“How do you want it when I prep you, pup? Do you want to lay like that, and I can sit here on the end of the bed?” 

That sounded nice. Theon nodded, feeling a tiny thrill of excitement when Ramsay actually grabbed a little bottle of lube from the end table and coated his fingers with it. 

“Bend your knees puppy, that’s it, feet flat on the bed, legs spread. That’s a good boy. I’m gonna go nice and slow, alright?” Ramsay very gently eased out the tail plug, tossing it aside onto the floor, and then circled a finger around his hole, letting him relax a little more before slowly easing it in. Theon kept quiet as that finger carefully slid deeper and deeper, all the way in to the second knuckle. Ramsay wiggled it around inside him, twisted and curved it, and soon he was nodding to say yes, a second one would be good. 

It was still uncomfortable, but watching the focus and seeing the affection on Ramsay’s face made Theon feel like the luckiest man on Earth. Those two fingers scissored and curled and worked inside him, soon opening him up enough for a third. Ramsay found his prostate once all three were in to the second knuckle, and Theon mewled as his fingertips brushed against that bundle of nerves. 

“Good pup.” Ramsay praised, pressing at it again, and Theon’s cock was coming to life for the first time in what felt like forever. There was heat pooling in his gut, tingling in his nerves, and he was soon panting softly and squirming against Ramsay’s fingers. Truly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex that hadn’t been painful, much less actually enjoyable for him. 

“M-Master- I can take it now, I- I can take it.” Theon’s gaze dropped to his master’s cock, thick and hard with a bead of pearly white precome at the tip. 

Ramsay’s fingers poked and prodded at his prostate, ice blue eyes watching Theon squirm. “Not yet, puppy.” He soothed. “I want that pretty cock of yours nice and hard first. This is for you, remember?” 

Theon gasped, hips twitching, hands curling into fists, clutching the sheets. His face was flushed a deep pink and he just couldn’t keep quiet. The way Ramsay looked at him had his heart doing flips, the love and affection in those eyes. His cock was fully erect in no time. 

“You ready now, pup? You want my cock now?” 

“Please,” Theon spread his legs a little wider, exposing himself even more. Ramsay groaned at the sight, slowly pulling out his fingers, his own cock twitching at the sight of Theon open and ready for him. 

His master was being so kind, so gentle, and Theon felt so, so happy. He couldn’t help but smile as Ramsay moved overtop of him, between his legs, carefully lining his cock up with his hole. He began slowly easing it in, a big change from his normal brutal thrusts. It was still uncomfortable, being so stretched and full, but Ramsay stopped moving once he was fully inside him. Theon could see the want in Ramsay’s eyes, could see how his master was holding back. 

“It- it doesn’t hurt. You can move.” His voice was almost a whisper and Ramsay’s lips quirked up into a grin. 

“If you say so, pup. I’ll go slow.” 

He wasn’t lying. Theon was soon mewling and gasping, Ramsay’s thick cock slowly dragging over his prostate, filling him up then pulling out almost all the way. It reminded him of something... reminded him of Robb. 

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow as Ramsay thrusted inside of him. It was driving him insane, so slow and gentle and loving, and all he could think of was Robb. 

He shuddered, breath hitching as Ramsay sped up just a little bit, hitting his prostate each time. His thick, calloused hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with each thrust. There were lips on his neck, sucking and nipping and kissing. It didn’t take long at all before Theon was falling apart. 

“I- R- I’m so close, I-I-“ Theon stammered, hips bucking and toes curling. 

“Just wait, pup...” Ramsay purred, but all Theon heard was Robb’s voice playing in his mind. The hand moved off his cock and back to his waist, clutching it tightly. 

“I can’t- I can’t,” Theon babbled, the thrusts speeding up more, hitting his prostate harder and harder. 

“Good boy. Good pup.” Ramsay praised. 

Theon lost it. 

“Fuck- oh fuck-“ His hips bucked and rolled and jerked, his cock twitching, come spurting out onto his and Ramsay’s chests. “Robb!” He cried, stars in his vision, head spinning. It felt so good, it was pure, white hot bliss. “Robb, fuck- fuck- Robb...” his voice trembled and shook and he gasped as he came down from his orgasm, only realizing his mistake when he realized the thrusting had stopped and Ramsay hadn’t come, only realizing it when he looked up and saw the rage clear in Ramsay’s eyes. 

He’d never seen Ramsay that mad. His mind went blank except for one thing. He didn’t want to die. Ramsay looked ready to kill him, and he didn’t want to die, he didn’t, even if it brought him back to Robb and Queenie, he didn’t want to die. 

“Please...” Theon whispered, his voice not even sounding like his own. 

And then there was splitting pain, being grabbed by the hair and having his head repeatedly slammed back against the wall- and then there was nothing.


	55. Chapter 55

Theon was gasping, shivering, on the floor beside the bed. Splatters of blood painted the floor around him like some sort of abstract artwork. The nightstand was tipped on its side, the lamp shattered, and the contents of its drawer strewn across the floor. The sheet from the bed was dragged half-off, with a long, jagged tear in the fabric. Theon lay in the middle of the mess, the ugly centerpiece of the destruction. Ramsay straddled him, flaying knife in hand, and through his blinding rage he worked the tip of the blade under Theon's index fingernail.

"Would Robb do this?" he roared, digging the blade in, tearing through the sensitive flesh under the nail. "Would he?"

Theon wished he’d stayed unconscious, stayed away from the sharp, shooting pain that Ramsay’s knife was causing. He sobbed, squirming beneath his master. “I-I’m sorry- I’m sorry- please-!” He hadn’t meant to say it, he hadn’t, he’d just messed up. He didn’t even know why he’d messed up. He’d been doing so good, but he should’ve known better. Theon should’ve known he’d end up being bad again. It was just who he was- rotten and wicked and bad, nasty and reeking and weak. The knife hurt so bad, digging in under his nail, prying it up from the nail bed. 

"You're not sorry, you miserable cunt!" Ramsay snarled, grabbing Theon by the hair and wrenching his head to the side, exposing his throat. He tore the blade through Theon's fingernail, relishing his choked-off scream, and trailed the bloody knife along the line of his throat. "I should kill you now," he spat. "Kill you like the lying bitch you are."

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Theon sobbed, heart racing. Was Ramsay really going to kill him? Just days ago, he’d wished for it, prayed for it- he’d told Ramsay he should kill him- but now, with the knife at his throat, he was terrified. “I’m sorry, master, I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry!” The pain shot bright white stars in his vision, and he felt himself getting dizzy. He’d fucked up, he fucked everything up. 

"Shut up!" Ramsay screamed, spraying spittle across his face. He whirled back, throwing Theon's head down so his skull bounced on the hardwood. He shoved the tip of the blade under the rest of the fingernail, slicing it out recklessly, watching with slitted eyes as the blade cut through his flesh like butter. Theon's howl of pain rang through his ears, sending shivers of pleasure down Ramsay's spine. He glanced back at him, blue eyes lit with crazed delight.

The pain was so sharp, white hot and piercing, and Theon was so, so dizzy. “I’m sorry, sorry, ‘m bad, bad, bad...” His vision was swimming and he could barely focus on Ramsay’s face, so he let his eyes fall shut. “‘m bad. ‘m weak. Weak, weak, rhymes with freak...” The rhyming felt oddly reassuring, almost calming, playing over in his head as a distraction from the pain. 

He was itching to do it, to cut out his damned tongue and cease that incessant begging, but the rhyming washed over him and he grinned. "That's it, little pup. Put that sweet voice to use and scream for me." 

Broken, bloody shards of keratin fell to the floor and Ramsay moved to the next, eyes tracking his own every movement with a sort of mad hunger.

Theon screamed louder as the blade moved under a different nail. “Weak, weak, rhymes- rhymes with freak-“ He whimpered, trying to think of anything other than the pain- the horrid, blinding pain that felt as if it was shooting through his whole body and not just his fingertips. There was so much blood, so much, it was everywhere- the room reeked of it, of blood. Reeked. “Reek, reek, rhymes with weak...” 

"That's right, it does. Keep going," he ordered. He had moved onto Theon's middle finger, and was sliding the edge of the blade into the crease of skin where the side of the fingernail met flesh. He pulled, watching the agonized expression flickering over Theon's face as the nail split slowly from the sensitive flesh underneath.

“Reek, reek- meek, rhymes with meek, meek and freak and w-weak- rhymes with reek-“ He cut off with a scream, body shuddering violently in pain. 

Ramsay groaned, closing his eyes briefly. His work with the knife faltered before surging back tenfold, and he sawed at the tender flesh, watching reverently as the nail slowly but surely detached. Theon's gasps and sobs were musical, arousing, and he seized his left ring finger with a malicious grin.

Theon‘s whole body was shaking terribly and he felt as if he might throw up- but he knew that would only infuriate his master, so he pushed the feeling away. He focused on rhyming. “Reek, reek, bleak, freak, m-meek, reek...” He blabbered, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"Think Robb would even still want you if he could see you now?" Ramsay asked cruelly. "There's nothing left of Theon Greyjoy. Why would he want another man's broken toy? A used, empty bitch?" He caressed the finger, laying a chaste kiss on the tip.

Theon’s breathing was harsh, more panting than anything, and he opened his eyes for a moment only to have them roll back at the pain he felt throbbing at his fingertips. “Broken,” He agreed, “Bleak. Meek, weak, bleak.” 

"So, since you can't have the one you obviously want, you won't miss this, right?" He teased the knife over the finger. "It's not like he can put a ring on it. He's dead, after all. Dead and rotting in the ground."

Another finger. Another empty space. It had, he supposed, to be less painful than having his nail ripped off. There’d be no finger to feel pain in if Ramsay cut it off... nonetheless, he began trembling worse than before, his rhyming quieter, faster, more breathy. “Weak, freak, rhymes with reek, rhymes with meek...” 

"I'm going to slice it off, piece by piece," Ramsay promised, "so you feel every moment of it. Okay, pet?" He pressed the blade against the tip of his finger, watching as the steel sank through the flesh.

Theon’s mind went blank. The pain was so much, too much, and he was vaguely aware of his own screaming and shouting, but the shock of it all had him feeling as if he were watching from outside of his own body. It hurt, it hurt so badly, so terribly, and he almost wished Ramsay had just gone through with the threat of killing him. 

It was like slicing carrots, Ramsay thought with glee. The knife hit the wood, and he moved it back further, slicing straight through the nail this time, forcing the blade through until it hit wood again. Theon was thrashing, screaming, and there was a distant pounding that Ramsay thought to be in his own head. He poised to slice through a fourth time, the blade at the first knuckle, when the pounding grew louder and the door banged open behind him. Ramsay jumped, the knife slicing straight through with his sudden movement and thunking against wood. He spun around, dropping the knife, allowing Theon a moment of blessed reprieve. Roose Bolton stood in the doorway, looming over them with a look of utter rage. 

"F-father!" Ramsay gasped. "What—"

"If you're bored of it," Roose snarled, "take it outside. I'm sick of listening to it screaming."

Theon, shaking, reached out his right hand to weakly grip Ramsay’s arm, blood streaming from the two ruined nail beds. “M-Master- Master...” he whimpered. Don’t take me outside, he wanted to say, don’t hunt me like one of those girls- but saying it would end in Ramsay doing exactly that. 

Ramsay and his father stared at each other, fighting silently. Finally, Ramsay looked away, a muscle working in his jaw, and he grabbed Theon by the hair, dragging him up. 

"Stand up," he spat. "Useless bitch. I'm not carrying you."

Theon stumbled to his feet, clutching Ramsay’s arm- even though it send horrible shocks of pain through his fingertips to do so. “Weak, weak, rhymes- rhymes with freak...” 

Ramsay grabbed his hand, squeezing, and blood fell in thick droplets to the floor. Roose let them pass, followed them down the stairs, and escorted them to the hall. Rather than lead Theon outside, however, Ramsay brought him down the basement stairs, throwing him bodily to the floor at the base of his pole.

Theon curled in on himself, clutching both hands to his chest. They were both bloody and aching, and he couldn’t even tell which one was worse. The right, probably. He lifted the hand to his mouth, sucking one of the wounded fingers into his mouth, hoping it would somehow relieve the pain. 

"Don't do that," Ramsay said fiercely. He grabbed Theon's wrists, held them together, and cuffed him, chaining his wrists to the ceiling. Blood dripped down his ruined fingers, trailing down his arms at a snail's pace, surely bound to drip onto his head. Ramsay collared him and wrapped the chain thrice around his body, binding him to the pole, so tight he could hardly breathe let alone move.

Theon gasped for air, his breathing already short and frantic, and he let his eyes fall shut. He was so bad. He was so, so bad and everything hurt so much and it was all because he said the wrong name, all because he slipped up, fucked up for just a second. 

“Robb...” He whimpered pitifully, head hanging. “Please... please... Robb...” 

_I'll protect you, remember? I'll keep you safe,_ Robb had said. But Robb was six feet underground, and Theon wasn’t dead nor buried, but he was still in hell. 

"Please, Robb..." Ramsay mocked. "What's he going to do? He's fucking dead." He left Theon there, bleeding and wishing that he, too, was dead.

“Robb...” Theon just whimpered his name, over and over, as if it would somehow bring Robb back to life to save him from Ramsay. But... he didn’t need to be saved from Ramsay, from his master. His master was good to him, kind and patient and tolerant, and he’d deserved all the pain he’d gone through. He needed to be punished. He did. His master was right, master was always right... 

He lost himself in his thoughts, in rhymes and Robb and master, dozing off, in and out of consciousness until he was woken by footsteps and the door to his little room being thrown open. 

Ramsay strode in without a word and unchained Theon. He took the chain from the collar, dropping it to the floor, and leaving the heavy metal around Theon's neck. From his pocket, he drew the tail plug that had lay abandoned on Ramsay's bedroom floor. He shoved it back in him, and then took an oversized t-shirt and pulled it over Theon's head. The hem of it fell past Theon's hips, down to his mid-thighs.

"Come on," Ramsay said curtly.

Theon let out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine of pain at the plug being so roughly placed back inside him, but he didn’t say a word about it. He grabbed hold of Ramsay’s arm and stumbled along after him. “M-Master,” He stammered, “I- Master- I love you.” 

"Don't talk to me," Ramsay said. Not once had he met Theon's eyes. He took his wrist and led him up the stairs, not slowing his pace even as Theon stumbled up the steps.

Theon let out a dry sob, almost falling over multiple times before they reached the top of the stairs. He was already uncomfortable and scared, but the fear grew tenfold when he saw all the boys were there. 

“There’s the bitch!” Damon exclaimed, a dangerous glint in his eye. 

“M-Master- Master-“ Theon tried again, clinging to Ramsay’s side. Why were the boys there? He didn’t dare ask. 

"Follow us," Ramsay said. He didn't get much of a choice, as Ramsay dragged him along down the hall, towards the back door. Confusion was in his eyes as they stepped outside. The sky was still dark, smattered with fading stars, with a hint of the sun just peeking over the horizon. The yard was damp, glistening with dew in the dusk light, and the forest was gloomy and foreboding. The dogs were all out, pacing, their paws leaving tracks in the dew-ridden grass.

No. No. No, no, no. He wouldn’t- his master wouldn’t... he’d just made one little mistake, he had, and his master already punished him for it. He tightly hugged Ramsay’s arm, his body beginning to shake. 

"You are familiar with the rules, aren't you?" Ramsay asked, knowing the answer. "You get a four minute headstart, beginning from when you cross the fence. If you make it out of the woods, you win."

“N-no- Master, no!” Theon pleaded, looking up at him with comically wide eyes. “No- please, please don’t make me.”

Damon tipped his head back and laughed aloud. “Pathetic.” 

"Just go, kid," Skinner said, looking away. He looked annoyed.

"Go." Ramsay stared at him, eyes flinty and cold. "Now."

“Master, you can’t!” Theon wailed, tears welling up in his eyes. “I-I’ll be good- I’ll be a good pup- I’ll be so good, I promise! Please don’t make me! P-please, I love you, I love you, you-you’re all I have- please don’t make me!” 

“Ramsay, I’m growing impatient.” Damon warned. 

"I don't care," Ramsay retorted. "Pup. Go."

"Better start counting now," Luton sneered. Grunt grunted in agreement, lumbering around them. Yellow Dick inched nearer, eagerness written all over his face.

“You-you’re all I have, please!” Theon was desperate, he felt sick to his stomach. Why did he have to fuck up so bad? His master didn’t want him anymore, he didn’t want him, he was just like all the girls they’d hunted- he was just like-

He wasn’t special anymore. He wasn’t his master’s special little pet. He was no different from the prey they hunted all the time. 

He looked at Ramsay, pure and raw hurt in his expression, feeling as if his heart had been torn out and snapped in half. He loved his master, but he wasn’t his master’s pet anymore. He was prey. 

“I love you.” He whimpered pathetically, before letting go of his arm and sprinting for the fence. 

The dogs barked, leaping through the grass, gamboling about with their tails wagging madly. The Boys all cheered, waving their fists and punching the air, and Ramsay began counting down at the top of his lungs as Theon scrambled clumsily over the fence. 

"Two hundred forty! Two hundred thirty-nine! Two hundred thirty-eight!" he called, his voice ringing out into the still dawn.

“I can’t wait to tear into that fucker again.” Damon sneered, obviously itching to just chase after him already. 

Theon, on the other hand, was not excited at all. He was running, soles of his feet beginning to ache and bleed from the friction and all the little things he landed on- rocks, glass, twigs. His breathing was labored, short and shallow. The collar around his neck was heavy and tight, and it didn’t help at all. It also didn’t help that for so long, Ramsay had barely let him eat. He was never too muscular to begin with, but now... he was so thin, so frail, and he feared that he’d snap in half if he so much as tripped over a branch. 

"Two hundred nine! Two hundred eight! Two hundred seven!" Ramsay was shouting, barely audible over the din of the barking dogs. Helicent had her front paws on the top of the fence, peering over, barking madly. 

"Down!" Ben Bones ordered. The older man was leaning over the railing, his wrinkled face pale and drawn. Helicent obeyed, trotting back and staring up at them all impatiently, flashing her pearly teeth. The other dogs followed suit and they lapped the yard, lean muscles working under their sleek coats. 

"They want to go," Skinner remarked to Damon, smirking. "They've had enough of him, too."

“That bitch was getting on my fucking nerves.” Damon flashed Skinner a wicked grin, toying with the whip coiled up at his side. 

As Theon ran, as his feet bled and his body ached, he thought of Robb. He thought of when he’d ran away from his master, and how warm and gentle and inviting Robb had been. How safe he’d been. He wish he hadn’t snuck out early the next morning to go crawling back to Ramsay. 

He’d just felt so bad. His master had blown up his phone all through that night, the anger and threats completely dwindling away and turning to worry. ‘Please, Theon, I’m worried.’ ‘Baby, I love you, please come back.’ ‘Babe, where are you?’ ‘You left some of your stuff here, if you’re leaving me, you can still come pick it up...’ ‘I’ll be home if you decide to stop by.’ ‘It’s okay, I promise.’ ‘I’m not angry, baby, I love you.” 

He should’ve known better. He should’ve known. He was so stupid to think anyone could love him, he was so stupid to think anyone could really, truly want him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran, running and running until he couldn’t hear Ramsay’s voice calling out the numbers. He knew which way he was going. He knew how to get to the bar on Deepwood Road. He knew how to get from there to the Stark house. He knew. 

It seemed to take forever for the boys on the back porch, but it was a matter of minutes before Ramsay was calling out the final numbers ("Three! Two! One!") and the dogs were unleashing their hunting howls. Kyra leaped first over the fence, Ramsay having sent her out first as a sort of sick joke, with the other girls at her heels, and the Boys flooding after them.

Theon surprised himself with how fast he was running. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t hungry. The last time his body wasn’t aching. Now, though, running through the woods in the dark, he felt no hunger, no pain. He was filled with fear and adrenaline. He couldn’t let them catch him. He knew what they did. He remembered how brutally the boys had beaten and raped him in the basement, and how their treatment of the girls they hunted made his own seem like a relaxing day at the spa. His body felt almost numb, as if it weren’t his own, as if someone else was moving his legs and fighting to escape. 

“Rams, who gets first dibs on the bitch’s ass?!” Damon shouted as they all headed over the fence and into the woods, dogs howling and barking loudly ahead of them. 

"You can," Ramsay replied. "You all can have it. I want nothing more to do with it, after this."

The boys were loud, raucous, as they followed the dogs, and the dogs themselves were the same. Kyra was sprinting, paces ahead of the rest of the pack, her nose down and her paws flying over the earth. Theon's scent was everywhere, thick with fear and the reek of his unwashed body. The rest of the girls didn't bother with their own tracking, content to let their youngest learn the ways. No prey had ever won the hunt, after all.

The fresh air filled Theon’s lungs as he ran and it pushed him to keep going, to keep running, to get to Deepwood Road and then to the Stark’s house. Even if Robb was gone, there was still Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon- Drowned God, he was so stupid. There were still people... there was still a world outside of Ramsay’s basement- but he’d be a burden, disgusting and bad, worthless- but he did have somewhere to go, he did, and had his master lied to him? His master wasn’t the only person he had left. He wasn’t. 

Theon sped up. 

The woods were dark, a hint of spring fog in the air, and running cleanly was made difficult. The boys, who all wore shoes, tramped noisily through the undergrowth without a care to the thought their prey might hear them. Why fear, when one had nine hunting dogs? The leader of which was now barking, leading the rest on a winding path through ferns and brambles. 

She raced far ahead of them all, tracking the prey's fear scent, until it changed. She slowed to a lope, circled once, and sniffed furiously. It had changed here, lost the overwhelming fear, and held something else. Kyra sniffed again, cataloging this new scent, and followed it.

He could hear the dogs in the distance, he could hear them, and he’d never wanted to be alive more than he did in that moment. He wanted to see Sansa again, and Arya and Bran and Rickon, he wanted to see Robb’s grave, he wanted to hug his sister and tell her he was sorry she had to go through it all alone. He needed to get out of the woods. He had to, he couldn’t die there, not now, not like this. 

Dry bracken and leaves crackled underfoot as Kyra stepped through a gap between two trees. Her ears went back and she showed her teeth, growling. Theon stood feet in front of her, and at the sound of her he spun to face her.

“No...” Theon whispered, looking into the pup’s pretty golden eyes. “Please, no... please...” He was too scared to keep running in case she began to chase after him. He took a step back. “Please, girl, please...” 

Kyra took a step towards him, muscles tensed. The other dogs could be heard in the near distance, crashing through undergrowth, and Kyra twitched. She didn't break eye contact with him for several moments, before silently turning and sliding back through the trees, her black pelt blending seamlessly in with the shadows as she moved further and further away. Barely thirty seconds later, the rest of the dogs were bolting past where he had hidden, and Kyra's howl was splitting the air, leading them away.

Theon could’ve cried. Kyra had saved him- she’d seen him and went the other way. He knew better than to stay there though, and as soon as the dogs sounded like they were a reasonable distance away, he was back to running. He stopped thinking and just ran and ran and ran, didn’t take a single break until he reached the edge of the woods where trees met road. He stopped then, staring at the road ahead of him as if he’d never seen anything like it before, as if it were some sort of heaven. And it was. The boys and dogs were still in the woods, they had to be, off looking for him in the wrong direction, and he’d reached the safety of the road. Now he just had to find his way to the Stark’s. 

The sun was barely cresting the horizon; it had to be near five in the morning. A truck blazed up the road, headlights cutting through the dark, and the driver inside turned his head to look critically at Theon, dressed in that baggy t-shirt with all his pup accessories, as the truck rumbled past. Dogs could still be heard howling, faint, and there were no other properties on this road. The Boltons owned them all.

The run was long. Every few minutes he had to pause to catch his breath, and each time he thought he heard a dog barking, or a man yelling, but it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He reached the Stark house some time later, the sun just barely having risen. He stood on their porch, frantically knocking on the door as his blood stained the wood beneath him. His adrenaline had run out and all he felt was pain- new and old, sharp and aching- and exhaustion. His body trembled, and he thanked the Drowned God that he still had almost his body parts. He looked down at his shaking fingers, the mostly healed stub of his left pinky and the raw wound of his left ring finger, the missing nails on two fingers of his left hand. His feet were horribly cut up from the run. He was about to break down right there on the porch when the door finally opened. 

He didn’t even look up to see who it was, staring at his feet, breathing harsh and tears beginning to stream down his cheeks as he choked out the only words he could think of. 

“Please, everything hurts so bad, please let me in. I’m so sorry. I’m so hungry, please.”

A loud sob shook his body and he finally looked up to see who’d opened the door. 

“Please.”


	56. Chapter 56

Sansa stared down at him, revulsion on her face as she took in the state of him, of his apparel. 

"Theon?" she asked. "You— you don't—" She reached out, grabbed his arm, and helped him inside. "Come on, Theon, let's get you a shower. Okay? Let's get you a shower, then we'll talk about whatever happened to you." Her gaze raked over him again, but the disgust was now clearly aimed at whomever had left him in such a state.

He felt her gaze and he felt ashamed. He knew he looked terrible, ugly and filthy and disgusting, he was lucky Sansa was even letting him in, he was horrible, wretched, a disgrace- He shook his head a tiny bit as if to shake the thoughts away and clung to her arm as they headed up the stairs. Shower. “I-I can’t- Master wouldn’t-“ 

Master wasn’t there. And yet, still...

“Reek, reek, rhymes with freak... I reek, he says, he- he wouldn’t want me to...” 

Sansa swallowed hard. "He's not your master, Theon. You don't have a master. Not then, now now, not ever. You're free." She brought him into the bathroom nearest her bedroom, looking both ways up and down the hall to make sure nobody was seeing them.

Theon trembled and raised a hand to his mouth, sucking at his bloody and shortened ring finger, trying to soothe the pain that was suddenly so obvious to him. How hadn’t he felt it when he was running? 

When he stepped into the bathroom and saw his reflection in the mirror, he collapsed. He hadn’t seen himself in so long and he didn’t- he knew he looked bad, but he didn’t want to see that. His sunken cheeks, dull eyes with heavy bags beneath them, his hair matted and covered in a layer of filth just like his skin. His front tooth was chipped, he’d all but forgotten about that, having grown used to it and the empty spot in his mouth where one of his teeth was missing. He knelt on the floor in front of the bathroom counter and hid his face in his hands. He was so ugly, so gross, so bad, he should’ve never came- poor Sansa didn’t deserve to have to see him like this. Poor, sweet Sansa. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Theon whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “I’m- I’m sorry they- I’m sorry- it’s my fault they hurt you.” 

"Hurt me? They didn't hurt me, Theon, they hurt you." Sansa knelt behind him, carding her fingers through his filthy hair, her touch gentler than Ramsay's ever was. She brushed it back from his face and splayed her fingers over his thin cheeks. Her touch sparked warmth through, the comfort he desperately needed.

"Still so handsome," she promised him. "You just need to get cleaned up a bit."

“They- but they- the boys-“ He hesitated to look up at her, eyes wide. “He sent them after you, he- he sent them for you, b-because I was bad...” The gentle touch still felt so foreign. 

"They never touched me," she said softly. "I've never even met his Boys. I promise you. You weren't bad, Theon. You didn't do anything wrong."

“They- they didn’t?” Theon sounded shocked, looked shocked, and he felt a small wave of relief wash over him. His master had lied to him... and if he’d lied about that, what else had he lied about? What else had he made up? “Sansa... He- he didn’t want me anymore, I made him angry, I made him so angry, a-and...” He cut off and looked down at his hands, at the missing bits of finger and the missing nails. 

Sansa took his hands in her own, holding them gently. "Oh, gods..." she breathed. "Sit here for a minute, okay? I'll be right back with a first aid kit." 

She rose from the floor, dashing out the door, her nightgown fluttering.

Theon just kept staring at his hands and went back to sucking on his left ring finger, examining the missing nails on his right hand at the same time. There were still little slivers of nail down by the torn and bloody cuticles, reassurance that the nails would grow back eventually. 

Sansa returned shortly, bearing a first aid kit and wearing, strangely enough, her bathing suit. She dropped to her knees, grabbed his hand, and examined the missing fingertips. "He did this?" she asked. Try as she might to keep her voice soft, she couldn't keep the edge out. She hated Ramsay Bolton, hated him, hated what he had done, hated the fact that he was still breathing while Theon was suffering.

Theon nodded slowly. “I- I was bad. I had to be punished.” The pinkie wasn’t punishment, the pinkie was just for Damon’s amusement, but the rest of his injuries were well deserved. He was bad, very bad, and he deserved every last beating he had received. 

"Punished? By taking your fingers?" She let go of him, fearing she may squeeze his hand out of sheer fury. "That's not punishment, that's torture!"

“I was bad.” Theon repeated, staring blankly at his ruined hands. 

"Not bad." She took his face in her hands again, much like Ramsay would, but her touch was careful, loose enough for him to pull away if he wanted. "Never bad. Not you, Theon."

“Bad.” Theon repeated, lifting his gaze up to meet her eyes. “Bad and dirty. Reek. Reek, reek, it rhymes with weak...” 

"Why do you do that?" she asked tearfully. "Oh, Theon..." She leaned in and hugged him.

He trembled in her arms without moving for a moment before he completely broke down, wrapping his arms around her and holding on as if his life depended on it. He let out a loud sob and hid his face against her shoulder. “It hurts.” He managed.

"Oh, Thee... I know. I can give you some painkillers, okay? I can give you pain killers and disinfect it, okay? I'm sorry I can't do any more right now. If you want, I can take you to the hospital later?"

Theon shook his head. “N-no- no- not the hospital.” There was nothing the hospital could do, and the idea of a bunch of people poking and prodding and looking at him was nearly enough to make him panic. “Please don’t- please don’t, I don’t want so many looking at me, I-I’m sorry, please don’t...” 

"Okay!" Sansa said, backtracking. "Okay, no hospital. Painkillers, then, and we'll get you cleaned up first before I disinfect it, okay?"

“I- he’ll be-“ No, master wasn’t there, master wouldn’t know, master couldn’t hurt him here. “Okay. Okay- I- can I take a shower?” 

"Come on," she said, helping him up. She pulled his shirt off over his head and her gaze immediately fell to his naked, malnourished body. She bit her lip, pain in her eyes, but said nothing. Her gaze dropped lower, raking over the healed whip scars criss-crossing over his lower torso, and the furry tail that stuck out from... She swallowed back her devastation and rubbed a hand over his hip, her hand soft and soothing, before sliding back around behind him, grasping the tail and gently tugging it out. It slid wetly from him, and she dropped the thing to the floor, where it lay with smears of blood glistening on the rubber. She didn't say a word about it, moving instead to remove the dog ear headband, throwing that to the floor as well. Sansa grasped the collar, trying with no avail to remove it. It was bolted tight, and she would need some sort of tool to get it off.

She helped him step into the shower and turned on the water, leaving it warm rather than hot. Beads of water fell over his face, trailing grime down his cheeks and body.

Theon was shaky on his feet, but the water felt good, so good, and he could see the blood and filth being washed away by the water. The layer of grime being removed only made his wounds and scars more obvious, but he was too used to them to care. He felt guilty for showering, he felt scared, but he ignored both feelings and just focused on the water, closing his eyes. 

Sansa stepped into the shower after him, glad for her bikini. She fetched Robb's soap off the shower ledge, squirting a liberal amount into a soft washcloth and lathering up Theon's shoulders, swirling down his chest. She went carefully over the carved name on his chest—she refused to recognize it as a brand—and felt a surge of hatred like none she had ever felt before. Again, she said nothing, and merely worked the soap into his skin, watching as dirty water fell on rivulets down his chest to the floor of the tub.

“Thank you.” Theon murmured, a sort of peace settling over him at the gentle touches. The soap was almost the most comforting part. It smelt of Robb, sweet Robb, Robb who’d done nothing wrong and had been killed. He whimpered softly. 

"Shhh. Relax. It'll be okay." She washed down his chest, over his belly, and moved up again to turn him around. Sansa sucked in a sharp breath when she saw the state of his back, scars crossing all the way down from his shoulders to his backside. The washcloth was gentle, she hoped, as it rubbed over them.

He hunched over a bit, eyes still closed, hair now wet and hanging in his face. Her hands were so different from Ramsay’s, thin and gentle and graceful, her touches having no ulterior motive behind them that he had to fear. She wasn’t trying to manipulate him or hurt him, she was just... helping. He found himself trembling again wished he could claw at his skin to relax more, but it would cause too much pain to his ruined hands. 

She skirted around the patch where they had skinned him, not wanting the cloth to catch at the almost-healed wound. The more she cleaned, the more dirty water pooled at their feet and the more she revealed of his wounds. The extent was sickening. Her hand fell slack as she took in the deep color of the scars, and she wanted to save him. From what, however, it was too late. 

"Theon..." Sansa leaned forward and embraced him, trying to pour all the love and pain she was feeling for him into the gesture.

“I’m sorry.” Theon murmured, leaning back against her, relishing in the feeling of her arms wrapped around him. He was so frail and weak, and when he rested some of his weight back against her, it didn’t feel like much at all. It felt... good, to be cleaned, to have all that filth wash away from his skin. 

"Don't apologize. Never apologize for this, Theon. You didn't— It's not your fault, remember?" She pressed a furious kiss to his cheek. "You're family, Theon. I'm here for you."

Theon let out a small, soft sob. “I-I’m so bad, I’m so gross and bad, I don’t deserve you.” He wrapped his arms around his own mid-section, taking a deep breath. “I’m- I’m ugly, and bad, and I reek. Reek, reek, it rhymes- sorry, you- you don’t want me doing that, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

He knew Sansa wouldn’t hurt him, he knew it, but he was still scared to upset her, to hurt her or make her angry with him in any way. 

Sansa pursed her lips. Her gaze flicked downwards then back up, cheeks pink, and she handed him the washcloth, figuring he would prefer to handle the rest on his own. While he did so, she squirted a liberal amount of shampoo into her palm and began to lather it into his hair.

He took the cloth, careful not to let it touch any of his ruined fingers, grateful that Sansa hadn’t tried to touch anything below the waist. He cleaned himself gently, wincing when he reached behind himself and the cloth brushed over his hole, torn and bruised as it was. He went to lift up a leg to clean it but almost fell over, yelping and catching himself against the shower wall. He couldn’t support himself on one leg- he could barely even support himself on two, and the soap and hot water was stinging the fresh wounds on his feet. “Can I- can I sit?” He gestured slightly to the edge of the tub. 

"Of course!" Sansa steadied him as he did so, shifting him so they both had easy reach of where they needed to be. His hair was matted, and she carefully wound her fingers into the tangles with conditioner, loosening them as gently as she could. She would have to cut it, she thought, and help him shave as well. Bandage his feet, too— or wrap them, rather, she realized as she took in the extent of the wounds. She could buy him scar cream, not that it would do much to heal those deep marks from the whip lashes, but maybe it could help with that ghastly name carved into his chest.

Theon washed his legs as he sat, the feeling of her fingers in his hair soothing him. He hadn’t so much as combed his hair in so long. He noticed that strands were coming out as she untangled it, falling to the floor of the bath and washing away down the drain. It made his heart sink a little. He’d loved his hair, his dirty blonde curls, and now it was a filthy mess even as Sansa tried so gently to fix it. 

She bit her lip, stuck on a large knot, and slowly pulled her fingers free. "I might have to cut it here," she said apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Theon." The knot was at the back of his head, so she could have to cut his hair shorter than it had been in a couple of years.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled, closing his eyes once he finished washing his legs and feet, blood washing down the drain from the cuts that were re-opened by the friction from the cloth. “Thank you.” 

She kissed his head, eyes wet with tears, and rubbed more shampoo through his damp locks. The color was muted, but she figured time free, in the sun, would restore it. 

"Almost done," she told him, rinsing the shampoo.

He lifted his head again once it was all rinsed out. He looked down at his hands, at his body and his legs, a bit startled by how pale and clean his skin was. “I- I- I’m so clean- thank you.” 

"It's no problem," she assured him, helping him to stand. He leaned on her as he limped from the tub, dripping over the floor, and she wrapped a fuzzy towel around him. "Sit on the sink, please, so I can cut your hair."

He clutched the towel to himself as tight as he could with his shaking hands and did as she said, sitting on the edge of the counter in front of the sink. He made sure to avoid looking at the mirror, not wanting to see himself. 

There were voices passing outside the bathroom, though Theon couldn’t identify them, and he heard the click-clack of doggie toes on the hardwood. One of the sets of doggie footsteps was quieter than others, but Theon figured it was just small and elegant Lady. 

Sansa took trimming scissors from the cabinet and set to work snipping Theon's matted hair, leaving about four inches left, and when she had finished she carded her fingers through it, freeing the loose cut strands so they fluttered to the floor. 

"Turn towards me," she requested, and he did so. She touched his cheeks, turning his face one way then the next, and picked up her razor from the sink counter. She fetched shaving cream from the under-sink cabinet and applied it to his cheeks, and carefully shaved away the scruffy hair.

He eyed the razor nervously, watching the blades glimmer in the light. He didn’t like having someone else holding something so sharp near his face, but it was Sansa. He told himself it would be okay. She wouldn’t hurt him. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch. 

It was annoying work if nothing else, but soon enough his face was smooth and clean, and with his hair washed and drying into loose waves, he was beginning to look like the Theon she had grown up with. She kissed his cheek and smiled at him.

Theon looked back at her and offered a small smile, hoping she didn’t notice the chipped front tooth or the missing one to the side. “Thank you.” 

"We just need to get you some food now," Sansa said, her gaze dropping down over his chest again. "Something soft and easy? And some water, too. But..." She grabbed the first aid kit and took his hands, disinfecting the wounds and wincing with sympathy as Theon flinched and whined. When his fingers were cleaned and bandaged, she dropped to her knees with a roll of bandage. Sansa cleaned the wounds on the soles of his feet and wrapped them securely.

"I just need you to stand for another minute, okay? Just to get to my room."

He nodded and slid off the counter, unsteady on his feet. He had to hold onto Sansa’s arm in order to walk, trembling just a little as they reached her room. He hesitated when she brought him over to the bed. Ramsay hadn’t let him in a bed in months- except that last time, to fuck him- and that had ended in Theon losing two nails and almost a finger. “Is it- am I allowed?” 

"Of course!" she cried. "Theon, why wouldn't you be—" She broke off, realizing, and her face fell. "Of course you can lay on the bed."

He hesitated still, but sat down after a minute, and took a little longer before he actually laid down. It was so comfortable, the lavender-colored blankets cushy and warm beneath him. His eyes flitted around the room, restless, and then he heard barking. He shifted his gaze to the window. 

“Are- are the dogs outside?” Theon sat up a little. “Can I look?” 

"Of course!" she said again. "I'll be right back, okay? I promise." She threw on her bathrobe and left the room. 

Theon slid his legs over the edge of the bed and limped to the window, resting his hands on the sill for balance. The dogs were playing in the yard, bounding about and barking happily. A familiar looking grey and white dog was running circles around a boy walking across the yard, a familiar boy with auburn curls shining red in the morning sun, and in his arms he held a grey and gold ball of fluff.

Theon’s eyes went wide as he saw them, tears welling up, and he couldn’t the keep them from spilling. “Robb- oh my god- that’s- and Queenie- and Grey Wind-“ 

Ramsay had lied to him. He’d lied about everything. Sansa, Robb, Queenie, Grey Wind... had he lied about Jon? About Alannys? Was his mom still alive? He wasn’t sure how Ramsay could fake the head or the voicemail... but he’d lied so much. 

Outside, Robb was setting Queenie down, and the little dog bounced around in excitement before dashing off to chase Lady. She yapped and darted between Lady's legs as the wolfdog ran, before looping back and charging for Robb again. Summer and Shaggydog were rolling about in the dewy grass, and Nymeria and Grey Wind were play-wrestling. 

Sansa reentered the room bearing a glass of water and a bowl of steaming soup. She paused, clearly wondering what he was doing crying at the window. 

"Theon...?"

“He’s alive.” Theon managed, not turning to look at him. “He- Robb- and Queenie, my Queenie- they’re alive. They didn’t- Sansa, they’re not dead!” He hiccuped, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

Queenie looked so happy, bouncing around, an excited little ball of fluff. Theon wanted to see her, to hold her fuzzy little body in his arms and kiss her tiny head. And Robb... 

He was terrified of Robb seeing him like this. He stepped away from the window. 

"Of course they're alive..." she said, puzzled. "Why wouldn't they— Did he tell you that? Did he tell you they were dead?"

Theon wiped his eyes again, nodding. “He told me that they were- that they were dead. And- and Jon, too, he brought a head, Jon’s head- is Jon okay?” 

"Jon's okay, he's alive, I promise. He was here just yesterday. Did he tell you he killed them?" she asked. Sansa felt nauseous, revolted. Ramsay really told Theon that his puppy was dead?

“Jon- he killed Jon- he said... his dog killed Queenie. A-and Ilyn Payne killed Robb, and Grey Wind. He lied- Drowned god, Sans- Sansa, he lied, he lied,” Theon broke off into a sob. 

"I promise you that nobody is dead," she said tearfully. "We're all fine, just missing you terribly."

“I want to see my puppy,” Theon looked at her, a hint of desperation in his eyes. 

"Robb should be bringing her and Lady back here when he comes back inside. You can see him, too, if you want," she suggested.

“No!” Theon exclaimed, and then panic took over his expression when he realized what he’d said. “I- I mean- I mean- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just don’t want him to see me like this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Ramsay hated him saying no. He hated it. He’d hurt him for it, he’d be so angry. He didn’t like Theon saying no, not one bit, he wasn’t allowed. 

"If you don't want to, that's okay. I'll keep you secret until you're comfortable," Sansa promised. "You can hide under the quilts when he comes. He won't notice."

“I look- I look so bad, I’m so ugly, I- I’m ruined, he can’t see me, I’m disgusting- I’m so sorry...” Theon raised a hand to his mouth but remembered there were bandages. He couldn’t get to any of his injured fingers. 

"Not ruined. Not disgusting. Not ugly." She set the soup and water down on the desk and rushed to embrace him. "You could never be those things. None of us would ever think you are."

“I’m so sorry.” Theon mumbled, hiding his face against her shoulder and wrapping his arms loosely around her. 

"Please don't be," she said. "Come on, sit back down. I brought you some potato soup, it should be easy to eat."

He walked slowly over to the desk and sat down, staring at the soup for a moment. It smelled so good that it made his stomach twist. He took a spoonful, swallowing it down. 

It may have just been because he was starving, but that soup tasted better than anything he’d ever had before in his life. Soon enough, once he was positive Sansa wouldn’t be upset by it, he began quickly spooning it into his mouth, eating it as quickly as he could- as if it would be taken away at any moment. He didn’t stop until the bowl was empty, and only then did he take a sip of the water. 

Sansa was tense, having been on the verge of telling him to slow down, but she almost feared his reaction if she interfered with him. She watched quietly as he drank as much as he wished before setting the glass back down on the desk.

"Do you feel better now that you've eaten?" she asked.

“A little.” Theon murmured, looking down and playing with the bandages on his fingers. There was a voice in the back of his head nagging at him, telling him he was bad, he shouldn’t have eaten, his master would be angry. That same voice was telling him he should go back to his master, he shouldn’t have tried to escape during the hunt, he should’ve stayed at his master’s side and never let fear push him to run and jump the fence. He was bad, he was so bad, his master would be so angry, he’d be beaten and chained and maybe even lose a finger-

He realized he was quite visibly trembling and placed his hands flat atop his thighs, trying to calm himself. The towel was still wrapped around him, covering to partway down his thighs. He didn’t want to worry Sansa, he didn’t want to think bad things that would make her upset. 

"Theon?" she asked softly. She touched his arm. "Why don't you lie down, okay? You can take a nap and we can talk about what to do when you wake up, okay?"

“I- okay.” Theon nodded, almost falling when he stood, but he grabbed the chair to steady himself. “But I want- I want Queenie- if that’s okay, I mean.” 

"Of course you can have Queenie. Robb should be bringing the dogs back in soon," she said, and went to check out the window. "Yeah, he's getting them now."

“Okay.” He nodded again, moving over to sit on the edge of her bed, fidgeting and looking at his hands. 

"He'll be coming in, to return Lady and Queenie," she reminded him. "Get under the blankets now so you can hide quickly when he comes."

Theon quickly obeyed, sliding under the warm layers of blankets, pulling them up so high that he could barely even peek out from under. 

"Good," Sansa said, almost amused. "Do you want anything else?"

“Just Queenie.” He replied, a bit muffled by the blankets hiding his mouth. He could hear voices and barking and footsteps coming from downstairs. 

"She's coming, don't worry," Sansa assured him. She gathered the glass and bowl and hid them from sight, so Robb wouldn't question why she was eating potato soup at seven in the morning. Several moments later, he was knocking on the door. Sansa glanced swiftly to make sure Theon was hiding before responding.

"Come in," she said. 

Robb opened the door, looking tired but content from his time with the dogs. "Here are your girls," he said, ushering in Lady and Queenie.

Theon peeked out, heart twisting painfully at the sight of Robb. He left just a moment later. Robb, who would never want him again, now that he was tainted and ugly and ruined. But the door was shut and Robb couldn’t see him, and Theon was distracted by Queenie immediately running up to the bed and yipping excitedly. 

He sat up and the little dog went absolutely wild, jumping and running up the little doggie stairs Sansa had leading up to the bed, leaping onto his lap and kissing all over what she could reach on his face. 

“Good girl, good girl,” Theon praised before bursting into tears. He hugged her tightly and she just kept kissing him. “I’m so glad you’re alive, I’m so glad, I love you so much.” 

Queenie wiggled joyously in his arms, snuffling at his chest and licking where Ramsay had marked him. Sansa smiled at the sight, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting Lady's head. 

"She's missed you terribly. It's been months," she said. Sansa, like the other Starks, was still unaware that Theon had returned for that brief night.

“Good girl.” Theon praised, kissing her tiny head over and over. She was an angel, sweet and soft and full of love, and she didn’t seem to mind at all that Theon looked different now- he was her Theon, and he still smelled like himself, and she was ecstatic. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

Queenie yipped as if to say ‘I love you too!’ and licked at the tears on his cheeks while his head was still tilted downward. 

“My puppy, my sweet puppy...” There was a tiny smile on Theon’s lips and his cheeks were flushed just a little bit. He settled back onto the bed, laying down, feeling safer than he had in months when she curled up on his chest, resting her head so she could still look up at him. “I love you.” He repeated, before drifting off to sleep.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for rather graphic (I think?) self harm

Ramsay was having a meltdown, and it was all Skinner could do to stay out of his way. The kid had escaped, he had won, and Ramsay was enraged. In his fury, the dogs had been left in the yard rather than brought in, and every once in a while, one would bark plaintively and scratch at the door.

Ramsay swore and kicked a kitchen barstool so it crashed against the wall. Skinner and Damon exchanged a look.

"You know where he would have gone," Skinner reasoned. "We can just go get him."

"It's where he is," Ramsay shouted, "that's the fucking problem!"

“Who cares anyway? You were sick of it and so were all of us. Now it’s gone. Sure, it’s annoying that we didn’t get to kill it, but whatever.” Damon shrugged, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"He's mine!" Ramsay roared, throwing a chair. "He was mine to hunt and play with!"

"Clearly, he was sick of it," Skinner said, half-joking.

"He doesn't get to be! He's mine!" Ramsay repeated.

“You wanted to get rid of it.” Damon huffed, rolling his eyes. “Honestly. Let the Starks deal with its whining and crying. At least we don’t have to listen to it then.”

"If he's at the Starks, they'll be coming after us," Ramsay pointed out. "The pup is going to whine and cry to his dear Robb and we'll get caught."

Privately, Skinner felt it was much more likely for Theon to lay low and try to pretend nothing had happened than get the cops involved, but Ramsay wasn't exactly interested in being reasonable at the moment, so he said nothing.

“It’s too much of a pussy to say anything any you know it.” Damon argued. “It’s a coward. It’ll probably just hide out in their house and cry. Who knows, maybe it’ll even come running back here again?”

"Yeah, he did last time," Skinner said. "He might be back tomorrow, or even later today. He wouldn't know what to do with himself now."

Ramsay opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again without a word. He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Like last time. We'll have to punish him more... Clearly, this wasn't enough."

“Personally, I don’t want to deal with it again. I would prefer it dead, but as long as it’s not here, I’m pretty damn content.” Damon shrugged, reaching a hand to brush his hair out of his face.

"Don't worry," Ramsay said. He crossed the room and picked up the chair, setting it right-side up, and sat down heavily. "If he doesn't come back, we'll go get him."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Skinner asked with a grimace. "He's at—"

Ramsay cut him off with a sharp glare. "If he doesn't come back," he repeated, dragging out the words as though Skinner was a child, "we will go get him. Then we'll see how rebellious he's feeling."

“Why’d you even want to hunt it then?” Damon whined. “It was gonna be gone either way, whether it escaped or we killed it.”

"I don't want him out there, alive! He belongs to me! He disobeyed me, and he needs to be punished."

"Well," Skinner began. Ramsay shot him a foul look, but Skinner went on stubbornly. "Technically, he didn't disobey you. He won the hunt."

“Skinner’s right,” Damon said with a shrug. “I get wanting to hurt it, because that’s fun, but it didn’t really disobey you.”

Ramsay tensed. "He explicitly went against my wishes," he snapped, and rose from the chair once more. He gave them both nasty looks and stormed from the room. Skinner glanced after him, eyebrow raised.

"He's taking this pretty hard," he remarked wryly.

“You don’t say,” Damon snorted, turning to grin at Skinner. “He’s never lost a hunt before. You know him, though. Hates whenever shit doesn’t go his way.” He leaned back against the wall, sighing. “Hope he gets over it soon, though.”

* * *

 

He retrieved the disposable razor from under the bathroom sink, going to Sansa’s room and using a pair of tweezers he’d found atop her dresser to pick and push and pull at the plastic holding the blades. Why was it so damn hard to get the blades out? Ramsay would laugh if he saw him now, hands shaking terribly, unable to even take apart a cheap plastic razor. A knife would be better, easier, but he couldn’t risk leaving Sansa’s room- and the knives from the kitchen probably wouldn’t be sharp enough, not like a razor blade or a flaying knife would be. He tried to keep his breathing steady but he felt panicked, sick to his stomach. He wanted to grab his phone and text Ramsay, call him, beg him to come get him- but he couldn’t. He didn’t have his phone, and Ramsay had hunted him. He hadn’t run away, he’d been forced out. He was wholly devoted to his master, and master didn’t even want him anymore because of some stupid mistake.

He cursed as he nicked one of his fingers, sticking it in his mouth and sucking at the blood leaking from the wound. He couldn’t grip the handle as steadily as he’d like with all his injured fingers, and it was making it so much harder. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he finally, finally got one of the tongs of the tweezers wedged up under the plastic. He twisted them and sighed in relief as the plastic cracked and popped up.

He held the broken razor overtop of her dresser and shakily peeled the three blades away from the plastic holding them together. He dropped the tweezers and the plastic handle on top of the dresser once he was done, eyeing the three thin, flimsy blades with teary eyes. He needed to be punished. He’d showered without permission, eaten without permission, he had slept in someone’s bed other than his master’s. He took one of the three blades in between his thumb and forefinger and stumbled over to sit at Sansa’s desk.

It still hurt to walk. He was still so thin, so weak, and now his feet were all torn and bruised up from running all the way to the Stark’s house. Sitting in a chair felt weird, wrong, and he quickly moved to sit on the floor instead, legs bent to the side. He hunched over, holding to blade to the side of his right thigh, and he sliced.

It stung, but he only whimpered, feeling a sick sort of relief at the sight of the blood bubbling up to the surface. He did it again, pushing harder this time, tears dripping down his cheeks. He did it again, and again, and again- slashing line after line into the skin of his thigh. It sliced so easily, his skin opening up so smoothly, like a hot knife through butter. His fingers and the blade were sticky with blood but he kept going, not noticing the blood dripping down the sides of his thighs and puddling onto the floor. He deserved it. He deserved the pain and the mess and the sick, awful twisting in his gut.

It wasn’t enough. Ramsay would’ve done worse. Ramsay would’ve punished him properly, but Ramsay wasn’t there, and Theon missed his master and everything felt wrong. He choked back a sob, reaching up to place the bloody little blade atop Sansa’s desk. He didn’t know what time it was. He didn’t know how long ago Sansa left for school, or when she’d be back. He stared down at the cuts, some thin and some fat, all bleeding dark red. He didn’t even hear the door open.

Sansa stepped in, dropped her schoolbag to the floor beside the door, and hung her jacket on the closet doorknob. She dropped her gaze to the floor, to Theon, and her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped.

"Theon!" she cried, choked off. "The— no!" She rushed to his side, pulling his hands away from his thighs, and stared desperately at the wounds. "Oh gods..." She stood, grabbed a box of tissues off her desk, and pressed a wad to the bleeding cuts.

He winced, whimpering softly. “I-I’m sorry- I was bad, I was bad, I had to be- had to be punished, and master- master isn’t here- I had to, I had to...”

Sansa glanced up on the desk and spotted the razor blade. She bit her lip. This was her fault, wasn't it?

"You're not bad, Theon. You saved yourself. You don't have a master— He's not your master."

“I need him, I- I need him- I’m so bad, I’m bad, he’d be so angry- p-please let me call him, I need to, he’ll be so angry with me,” Theon blabbered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I can't let you do that. You know I can't." Sansa pressed fresh tissues against the cuts, tossing the dirty ones to the trash can. She didn't have much besides bandages and disinfectant spray, and she hoped it would be enough.

“Please, please- I know his number, I- I can wait outside, he won’t come in- I need him, he- I need- I’m bad, I’m so bad, he’s gonna come, he- he’ll come anyway, and hurt you and Robb and Queenie a-and everyone.” Theon looked desperately up at her, trembling and crying.

"He won't hurt us. He can't." Sansa shook her head. "And even if you did call him, what would stop him from hurting us anyways? He'd take you, maybe take Queenie..." She watched horror flicker across his face with a stab of guilt, but it had to be said. He had to listen. "What do you think he would try next to make you listen? What hasn't he done to try and break you?"

Theon had to look away from her. He couldn’t meet her eyes. She was right. He’d take Queenie. “I-I did listen- he told me to run, a-and I ran, I ran, I did!” He insisted, but he knew Ramsay would be angry with him anyway. No matter what he did, his master always seemed to get mad at him. He sobbed softly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

"Please don't cry, Theon. It's okay. It'll all be okay, just please, please never do this again." Sansa would have hugged him, but she kept a firm pressure on the bleeding cuts, feeling the tissues soak through.

“I-I-“ He looked at his bloody, shaking hands. “I won’t. I won’t, I promise.”

"Good. I'm trusting you," she said. Sansa lifted the tissues away and checked the wounds. She grimaced. "There's nothing you should be punishing yourself for," she continued, grabbing a fresh wad of tissues. "When you're bleeding less, I'll take you to the bathroom and clean you up, okay?"

Theon nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry you have to take care of me, you shouldn’t have to, I’m just- I’m just so dumb, and stupid, and weak...”

"Oh, Theon, don't be sorry. You... You're..." Sansa trailed off. She looked away, back down to the tissues, and tried to pretend as though everything was okay. He wouldn't need stitches, which was good, because she didn't have anything she could have used. Just butterfly bandages and regular ones.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated, quieter this time. He should’ve just gone and cuddled Queenie instead of hurting himself, but he didn’t want to look around the house for her, and now he wasn’t sure where she was but he didn’t want her to see him like this. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, blinking back tears. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”

"Call me if you're feeling like this," Sansa murmured. "I don't want you to be hurting yourself like this. I care about you.”

Guilt weighed down painfully in Theon’s gut, a feeling he wished he weren’t so familiar with. “I didn’t- I don’t want to bother you. You don’t have to take care of me. I- it’s okay.”

"I want to take care of you. I want you to be better, and I'm not going to stop taking care of you and stop worrying about you until you are." She dabbed resolutely at the cuts, catching the last dripping drops.

Theon didn’t respond, looking at the wounds all over the side of his thigh. They looked ugly. They were messy and uneven, ugly tears in his skin oozing blood that stained the pale skin around them. And then there was the look on Sansa’s face, so sad and confused and making him feel even guiltier than before. He had nothing to say. He’d only make it worse.

With some comforting words, Sansa helped him up and snuck him down the hall to the bathroom. She sat him on the sink counter again and washed her hands before dampening a paper towel and cleaning blood away from the wounds. They weren't as deep as she had feared, and definitely wouldn't require stitches. She poured some peroxide antiseptic on a cotton ball and dabbed at the cuts, holding his leg still as he flinched and winced, and when that was done she took a box of assorted bandages and began fixing him up. To the deeper cuts, she applied butterfly bandages, and with the smaller ones, she merely covered them with a large bandage.

He watched nervously as she bandaged them, relieved when they were finally all covered up. He looked from his bandaged thigh up to Sansa’s face, offering her a weak, pathetic little smile. “Thank you.”

"It's no problem," she assured him. "Like I said, I'm going to take care of you. Come on," she said, holding his hand as he slipped down from the counter. "We have to be quiet."

She peeked out the bathroom door, seeing nobody, and she led him swiftly back down the hall to her room. Queenie was padding down the hall, barely making a sound with her little feet, but when she saw them, she perked up and bounded towards them, wiggling with joy.

Theon dropped down onto his knees and scooped the pup up into his arms, quickly stumbling back to his feet to follow Sansa into her room. He giggled softly as Queenie kissed his face, wiggling and squirming in his arms, a happy little ball of fluff.

"I'm going to get you something to eat, okay?" Sansa asked. She booped Queenie's little nose and said, "Look after him for me, won't you?" She yipped, and Sansa smiled at her. "Did you want soup again? I know you had it twice yesterday... Or I can make you something else?"

“Whatever’s easiest for you.” Theon answered quickly, sitting on the edge of Sansa’s bed with Queenie in his lap.

Sansa bit her lip and nodded. She didn't want to give him potato soup yet again, but she wasn't entirely sure what else to feed him that was quick and easy for him to eat. She didn't think she should give him solid foods that he would have to chew, not just yet, so it wasn't like she could order a pizza. There was also the matter of sneaking the food off to her room. She was lucky enough that Robb was spending a lot of time at Jon's apartment, and her mother was often too busy with Rickon and Bran to question her every move. Arya, on the other hand... She was doing better after some therapy and no longer woke up from her nightmares, and she definitely gave Master Syrio a run for his money in fencing classes. She was also a nosey little brat, and just last night she had questioned her on making soup after dinner.

Lucky for her, Arya was at her after-school fencing classes right now, and Sansa was able to go into the kitchen and make a bowl of chicken noodle soup. She fetched a glass of water and hurried back up to her room.

Theon was actually, genuinely smiling when Sansa returned, lying on his back on the bed with Queenie on top of him, sniffing and licking all over his face, as if she were trying to cover him completely in kisses.

"Sweet girl!" Sansa said, laughing. She crossed the room and set the bowl and water on the nightstand. "I made something different for you," she said.

Theon nodded, sitting up slowly. “... what about for Queenie?”

"She ate with the rest of the dogs already, but I'm sure she would appreciate a piece of chicken from the soup if you wanted to give it to her."

Theon nodded, taking a spoonful of the soup. He looked at it for a moment and plucked out a chunk of chicken, feeding it directly to Queenie before taking the rest of the spoonful in his own mouth. She sat up straight and proper in his lap, obviously ready for more.

Sansa giggled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Robb's been spoiling her for you, while you were gone. I don't think she's gone one meal without getting table scraps."

He tensed slightly at the mention of Robb, but ate another spoonful and pushed the feeling away. “Good. She deserves them. She’s my little angel.” He kissed Queenie‘s little head and she leaned in to lick the soup off of his spoon before he could.

"Oh, Queenie—" Sansa winced. "Do you want me to get you a new spoon, Theon?"

“I- uh- no- I’ll just drink it.” Theon pouted at Queenie but giggled softly at the way she looked back at him. He lifted the bowl to his lips and tipped it, drinking slowly.

When he had finished, Sansa passed him the glass of water and waited for him to drain every drop. She cleared the dishes, bringing them speedily back down to the kitchen, and when she returned, Theon was half asleep in bed with Queenie cuddled in his arms. Sansa smiled and sat beside them.

She really hoped that Theon would be okay. No— she knew he would be, with time, but this... She hoped he would keep his promise and never do this again. She still didn't know the extent of what Ramsay had done to him, and she didn't think she exactly wanted to know, but she wanted to protect him. Even if it was from himself. She would... She had to.


	58. Chapter 58

Theon was in the kitchen with Sansa, wearing a pair of his own pajamas that were now too big on him, when he heard voices from the living room. He froze up, looking at her with wide, terrified eyes. They would see him. If they came into the kitchen, they would see him. Sansa, however, stepped closer and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He stood still and listened. 

Rickon climbed up onto the couch next to Robb, sniffling and rubbing his eyes with his little fists. He’d been crying and now he was sitting on his big brother’s lap, whining and waiting for Robb to ask what was wrong. 

"Rickon? What's up, bud?" Robb asked, looking down at him. Shaggydog plodded up alongside the couch and rested his head on Robb's thigh. "Why are you crying?"

“Wh-where’d Theon go?” Rickon whimpered, pouting up at him. “I hear you a-and Jon talkin’ about him sometimes, and you sound worried. Did he die? I- I don’t want Theon to be dead.” 

"Thee's not dead," Robb assured him. He stroked Rickon's hair back from his face. "He's just... away. He'll come home eventually, I promise."

“B-but where is he?” A tiny tear rolled down Rickon’s cheek, his lower lip trembling. 

"He's on vacation!" Robb said, inflicting as much fake cheer as he could muster into his voice. "That's why he hasn't called. He's having such a good time on vacation, he doesn't have the time. But he will eventually, don't worry."

“Then why do you always sound so sad when you’re callin’ Jon?” Rickon tugged at Robb’s shirt, cheeks flushed pink. 

"Because I miss him," Robb said simply. "I miss him a lot. He's my best friend and I wish he didn't go on vacation, but..." He broke off.

Rickon wasn’t satisfied. “He’s been gone forever! Tell him to come back!” 

"I've tried," Robb said, sighing. He leaned back against the couch cushion. "Believe me, buddy. He doesn't want to just yet."

“I want him back now!” Rickon exclaimed. “Now! He-he’s been away for so long, and I miss him, an-and you miss him.” 

"I know, Rickon, but there's nothing I can do about it," Robb said patiently. There was a knife in his gut, sharp with the pain of missing Theon, and knowing who had him. "I can't force him to come home, no matter how much I want him to."

His lower lip kept trembling and he was starting to cry again. “First daddy left, them Jon, then Theon! You- you told me nobody was goin’ nowhere, and- and now everyone’s gone- now everyone’s gone and you said you were all gonna be here for me for- forever!”

"I'm sorry, Rickon," Robb said softly, hugging him close. Rickon buried his face into his sweater, and soon dampness was seeping through the fabric. "I didn't... I didn't think this was going to happen. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."

“I don’t want anyone else to go!” Rickon wailed, wrapping his arms impossibly tight around Robb. 

In the kitchen, Theon was trembling, staring wide-eyed at Sansa. “I can’t- I can’t listen,” He whispered, hands curling into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. 

"Come on," she said, taking him by the hand. With her other hand, she grabbed the bowl of honey-cinnamon oatmeal off the counter. Theon grabbed his glass of water, and the two of them tiptoed off upstairs to her room. 

Sansa had been sneaking Theon about the house for three days now, and she was quite proud of herself. Granted, he was by himself with the dogs for most of the day while they were all in school and her mother was at work, but still.

Theon was still trembling when they reached her room and the door shut, placing his water on the desk so he wouldn’t drop it before moving to sit on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. “I-I’m so bad, I’m so bad, they’re worried and I’m hiding, but I- Sansa, they can’t see me, not like this, not- not when I’m so ugly and dirty a-and gross.” 

"I know," she said soothingly. "You're not dirty, Theon, or ugly or gross." He had been accompanying her in the shower—with the both of them wearing bathing suits—so as to not arouse suspicion, and even with him just eating soups and other soft foods, the nutrition was bringing him back to life. That, and plenty of water. He was still underweight, and those scars... There was nothing she could do about those, though. Unfortunately.

“Master would be-“ Theon started, but cut himself off. Sansa didn’t like him talking about his master, and he could understand why, but it was still hard. He didn’t like sleeping in the bed, it felt unfamiliar, and he’d moved onto the floor while Sansa was asleep for each of the three nights he’d been there. He woke constantly, scared by every noise, confused when he wasn’t in the dark, cold basement- confused when he woke up crying for his master and Sansa was the one who came to see him instead. 

"Would be angry? Disgusted with you?" she guessed. "He doesn't matter anymore, Theon. You're home, remember?"

Home. Theon was overwhelmed in that moment. He was home- was he? Was he home? Master had always told him that home was with him. _You don't have a home, pup,_ his master had told him, _you belong to me, and you belong wherever I want you to be._ He had no home, this wasn’t home, how could it be if his master had said it wasn’t? His master knew what was best for him, he did, his master always knew best, but now his master wasn’t there and he was just weak and useless, a burden, so fucking weak. 

“Weak, weak, rhymes with freak,” Theon whispered to himself, feeling as if he might throw up. How could Sansa say that Ramsay didn’t matter anymore? Of course Ramsay mattered. He was Ramsay’s possession, his property, his pathetic little toy. “Freak, bleak, meek. Weak, weak, rhymes with reek.” He closed his eyes right and hid his face against his knees. The Starks were unhappy because of him- Rickon and Robb and Jon were sad, and Sansa was stuck dealing with him, and then there was always his master- not a Stark and many miles away, but his master needed him, and he needed his master, and he trembled worse as he thought of it. 

"Theon!" Sansa cried, grabbing his arm. "Hey, Theon, what—"

The door opened. Sansa and Theon both froze. Sansa turned her head slowly to see who was there, and Catelyn was standing in the doorway. 

"M-mom..."

Catelyn stepped in and shut the door behind her with a soft click. She crossed the room and knelt beside them. "So, this is why you've been ferreting food away to your room?" she asked. Sansa nodded mutely. Catelyn shook her head and gently touched Theon's arm, coaxing him to look at her. 

"Hey," she said, "it's okay, Theon."

Theon flinched at the touch but quickly calmed himself, looking up at Catelyn with wide eyes. “Sorry- Sorry, I’m sorry.” 

"What are you sorry for?" Catelyn asked, voice soft and well-practiced in soothing children. "It's okay, Theon. I'm glad to see you home."

“I-I’m eating all your food.” He mumbled, quickly shifting his gaze down to look at his knees. “‘M sorry.” 

"Don't be sorry for that," Catelyn said. "You can eat as much as you like. You're family, remember? From the looks of it," she added, glancing down his skinny form, "you need it. Why don't you come downstairs and I'll make something for you?"

“No!” Theon exclaimed, face flushing bright red immediately after he said it. “I-I mean- Sorry- I just... I don’t want anyone to see me. Not... not right now.” 

Catelyn nodded with no hesitation. "Okay," she said. "If that's what you want, then that's okay. How about you just tell me what you would like, and I can make it for you? And I'll bring it up and we can keep it a secret. Nobody else has to know you're here, not until you're comfortable."

“I’m not- I’m not hungry. But thank you.” He toyed with the bandages on his hands, cheeks still warm and pink. He was grateful, truly, but Sansa was already doing so much to care for him and he didn’t want Catelyn to feel burdened as well. 

"Okay," Catelyn said, rolling with it. "When did he get home?" she asked, turning to Sansa.

"Sunday," Sansa replied meekly. "I'm sorry, mom, he didn't—"

"I understand," Catelyn said. "Theon, if there's anything I can do, let me know, okay? Doctor, or medicine... anything. Do you have your phone?"

Theon shook his head. “N-no, I don’t, but I’m okay.” If he did have his phone, he’d doubtless be back with Ramsay already. 

Sansa touched her mother's arm to get her attention, and when Catelyn turned to look at her, Sansa shook her head. Catelyn nodded. 

"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Catelyn told them both. "Food, medicine, anything. I'll keep you secret, Theon, don't worry."

He swallowed hard and nodded, wringing his hands. “Th-Thank you, thank you.” He nodded again, unsure of what else to do. 

Catelyn looked as though she wanted to hug him, but Theon was huddled in on himself and looked far from comfortable with her presence. She stood up and left them alone. As she left, Queenie scooted through the door, and darted right to Theon, climbing into his lap and licking his face.

Theon brightened up a tiny bit at the presence of his happy little puppy. “Oh, hey little girl. Hey there. H-hey- hey!” He giggled softly, making a disgusted sound when she tried to lick inside his mouth. “Yuck, no, yuck! I love you, but yuck.” He turned his head a tiny bit to look at Sansa. “I- um- I’m sorry if your mom is mad at you because of- because of me.” 

"She won't be mad!" Sansa cried. "She'll do everything she can to help out. Get ready for some healthy meals!" she said jokingly. "She'll probably make some stuff to help you gain back the weight you lost and get you eating a normal amount again."

Theon offered her a weak smile and stood up slowly, unsteadily, holding a squirming Queenie in his arms. “I just don’t want- I don’t want to be a burden.” 

"You're not a burden," she said softly. She stood up with him, and though they were the same height, he seemed smaller somehow. He was diminished, keeping his head ducked and making only fleeting eye contact, and he stood like he was ready to curl in on himself at a moment's notice. It broke her heart.

He kissed the top of Queenie’s head, staying silent for a moment before looking hesitantly up at her, meeting her eyes. “Thank you.” 

"You know I'd do anything to help you," Sansa said, looking pained. "I mean it."

“Thank you.” He repeated, breaking eye contact just as soon as he’d made it. “I- I know I’m difficult. I know I- I know I wake you up, b-because I can’t sleep, and I’m- I know I’m difficult, I’m sorry.” 

"It's fine, Theon. You're okay, I promise. I just want you to be better. I want you to be happy again."

Happy again... Drowned God, was that even possible? Was happiness a thing he could really obtain once again with so many pieces of himself quite literally missing? He hid his face in Queenie’s soft fur, happy for her warmth in his arms. “I-if I’m too difficult, I can leave.” He mumbled, barely loud enough to hear. 

"Please don't leave," Sansa said. "Please, never leave again. You belong here. You're safe here. I want you to be safe."

He tightened his arms around Queenie just a tiny bit. “Okay. Okay, I just- I just don’t wanna be difficult.” 

"You're not difficult," Sansa assured him. "You're not. You're recovering."

“Thank you.” He sat down on the edge of her bed, kissing Queenie’s head. “For everything, Sansa. Thank you.”


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly graphic self harm warning

He knew he’d promised Sansa he wouldn’t, not again. She’d carefully wrapped the dismantled razor and three blades in tissue and thrown them out. He knew he shouldn’t touch other people’s things, but he had to do something. He had to. He stood in the bathroom, staring at his own reflection. He felt so ugly. He felt so sick. His gaze ran across the scars on his chest, the crooked ‘RAMSAY’ that had been carved into his skin what felt like so long ago. He was property. He was owned, and he’d messed up, and now Ramsay didn’t want him. He was like a dog without a master, confused and empty and hopeless. 

He missed his basement, his collar, even that horrible fucking tail. He’d grown so used to it. He missed when Ramsay held him, his scent of pine and cinnamon and sweat, his soft ‘good pup’s and the way he stroked his hair. 

He stood there, alone and in just his boxers in the bathroom, and burst into tears. He was so bad, he was a bad pup, he’d made master so mad. He looked down at the thick, ugly scabs covering his thigh and his fingers twitched. He needed to. He needed punishment for being bad. Master would be so proud of him for knowing he needed punishment. It wouldn’t be enough, of course, he wasn’t as strong or smart as his master, but it was something. 

He opened the cabinet under the sink, digging around until he found an opened package of disposable razors identical to the one he’d used before. He pulled one out, finding tweezers in the medicine cabinet. It was easier to get the blades out this time, snapping off the plastic and throwing the broken bits in the trash. There wasn’t space on his right thigh, not enough, so he sat on the floor and went to work on his left thigh. He found himself mesmerized by the blood again. 

His master loved to make him bleed, be it from his lip or cuts on his body or from his ass, he always seemed to be bloody from something or another. He wanted his master. He sobbed, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto his bleeding thigh. He was worthless without master, he was nothing. The only reason he’d ever had purpose was to serve his master. It was all he was good for. He was a toy, a plaything- Drowned God knows what happened to the loud, playful, arrogant Theon Greyjoy. The bad Theon, the mouthy Theon that always got him punished. His master liked him so much more when he was obedient. He was better now- before Ramsay, he’d been useless and bad, a burden- with Ramsay he was worthless but he at least had some purpose, he was good. He made his master proud. He made his master feel good. 

He gasped between quiet sobs and kept going, cutting and slicing and bleeding all over the tile floor. His master would be proud. He was being good, he was, he was punishing himself when his master wasn’t there to punish him. He wishes master was there to see, to pat his head and nip at the shell of his ear, and whisper ‘good pup’ to him. 

“Master,” He whimpered, eyes widening as he created an especially deep cut. It wasn’t spitting blood or anything, he knew it wouldn’t kill him, so he kept going, whispering for his master as he created cut after cut after cut, gasping and sobbing and wishing it was his master holding the razor instead of him. He needed his master, he needed him, he was nothing without him. He needed to go back, needed to find his master, he needed him. Even if his master wanted to kill him. If master wanted him dead, that was what he deserved. He just needed him, he needed to be back with his master, his owner, his purpose. 

He fumbled back up to his feet, placing the razor on the counter, hands sticky with blood and thighs covered in thick streams of red. “Master!” He sobbed pitifully, thankful for no one being home- but as he turned toward the door, he watched it open, and soft blue eyes met his own. 

"Theon...?" Robb could hardly dare to believe it, but there he was, standing before him with tears streaked down his cheeks. "Theon, you're ho— What?" He stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. "What happened?" he asked, staring in horror at Theon's thigh. The rest of Theon was no better— he had seen the whip marks, the bite scars, but the rest...

Theon stared up at Robb in horror. He fumbled to place the blade on the counter, stumbling to his feet and stepping back. “N-no- no- you can’t- you can’t see me, you can’t-“ His voice shook horribly and he looked frantically around the bathroom for something to cover himself with. He snatched a damp towel off the rack on the wall and quickly wrapped it around his body. It didn’t cover much, but it would have to do. 

Robb's brow furrowed. He wanted to ask why. He wanted to ask Theon how long he had even been here. But he had more important things on hand, and blood was dripped on the tile floor. It was dripping still, down Theon's thigh and calf. 

He took Theon's shoulder and gently moved him to sit on the flat edge of the tub. Robb glanced up at him, reassurance in his gaze, and moved the towel up just enough to show Theon's cut thigh. He winced, but said nothing and merely turned to grab the roll of toilet paper. He pressed a wad of it to the wounds, his touch gentle.

“No, no, no,” Theon repeated, voice weak and quiet. His face flushed dark red, shame twisting in his gut. He was so ugly and gross and Robb was there, Robb was seeing him like this, when he was so filthy and disgusting and gross. He hugged the towel tighter around himself, the tears streaming faster down his cheeks. “You can’t,” He shut his eyes tight to avoid looking at him. 

"I can't?" Robb echoed. "Thee, you're hurt! I have to." He looked away from him, back at the cuts. "Lucky you, they don't look too deep. It'll scar, but not too bad."

Theon choked back a tiny sob, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut. “You can’t- you can’t see me- not now, n-not like this, please...” 

"Why?" Robb asked, keeping voice soft and even. "I've missed you, Thee. So much."

“You can’t.” He repeated, voice cracking. His hands were shaking so terribly that he lost his grip on the towel. He opened his eyes, fumbling frantically to get it back in place covering his body, hiding his marred torso. He realized a second too late that his ruined hands were still in view and quickly tried to tuck them under the towel, whimpering as the cloth brushed over the raw nailbeds on his right hand.

"Hey," Robb said, catching his wrist. "What's—" He paled, turning Theon's hand to examine it. "He— He did that to you?"

Theon stared down at the same hand as Robb, hesitating a moment before lifting up his left hand as well, showing Robb where his pinkie was missing and where part of his left ring finger had been removed. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at Robb’s face, just let him see the two hands and the damage that had been done to them. 

Robb's mouth fell open. He was viewing the world through a fuzzy haze, his head pulsing with rage and sorrow. Robb had never been so.... His Theon, Ramsay had mutilated his poor Theon, and that bastard was still out there, walking free. 

Robb pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his unharmed left index finger and held both his hands in his own. Everything was fuzzy and he could hardly think for his fury, but Theon... Theon was hurt, scared, and he didn't have it in him to make this worse.

“I’m sorry...” Theon murmured, heart aching upon seeing that Robb was quite clearly upset. He should’ve just hid his hands. He shouldn’t have come to the bathroom in the first place, even if there were no way he could’ve known Robb would show up. He whimpered softly, closing his eyes as the tears streamed down his cheeks. 

"Please don't cry," Robb begged. He let go of his hands, going in for a hug instead. Despite himself, he relished the feeling of having Theon close again. He'd missed him, so bad he was sick with it, and he was finally home. For good this time, Robb would make sure of it.

Theon flinched initially but quickly let himself lean into the hug. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I. I can’t help it, I’m sorry.” 

"Why'd you do that, Thee?" Robb murmured, referring to the cuts. "Why didn't you want me to see you?"

“‘M gross. I-I’m gross and ugly and- and...” Theon shook his head, pulling back a tiny bit and letting the towel lower to rest around his waist, covering his lap. He stared down at his lap, wringing his hands, letting Robb see the scarred mess of his torso. 

His gaze immediately went to where Ramsay had carved his name and he brushed a finger over the edge of the 'R' with a feather-light touch. He looked up at Theon, mouthing silently. He had marked him. Practically branded him. If he ever got his hands on Bolton, he would tear him to shreds. Then he'd let Grey Wind at the remains. 

"You're not ugly, Theon," he said quietly. "You're beautiful. You'll always be beautiful, no matter what he's done to you."

Theon made a small, pained noise. Even the slight touch felt like the sharp bite of the blade all over again, the curved knife carving the name into his skin. “He- he ruined me, he ruined me,” He lifted a hand up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks, though the tears kept falling anyway. He wasn’t beautiful, not at all, not with his short hair, his ruined hands, his scarred and starved body. Not when he still ached down there, as if he were constantly being torn into. 

"He didn't ruin you," Robb said, shaking his head. His heart was broken into tiny pieces; it had shattered the moment he saw the state of his Theon, but every word ground the pieces further to dust. "He tried, but he could never. You're home, aren't you?"

“I- I don’t know, I don’t know.” Theon’s voice shook. He was always hungry, always aching, he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror. “I don’t know what to do without him, with-without my master, I don’t know...” 

"You do what you did before him," Robb said. "Be Theon Greyjoy. My best friend." He hugged him again, rubbing soothing circles on his back over the old whip scars. "I missed you, Thee," Robb said, voice cracking.

“I- I wasn’t allowed to. To miss you.” Theon’s voice grew even softer as he looked back up at Robb, eyes dull and swimming with tears. 

"He told you I was dead," Robb recalled aloud. At Theon's questioning look, he clarified, "Jon and I ran into him at the dog park a bit ago. He told us... He told us what he told you, about us and Queenie."

Theon nodded. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” He looked back down to his lap. 

"You, too," Robb said. "I'm glad you're back to me." He leaned his forehead against Theon's, ready to drown himself in the sheer comfort of having Theon back.

“I-I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Theon reminded him. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He let his eyes fall shut, relaxing a bit at the familiar smell of Robb’s soap. 

"Why? I would never think less of you. It's not your fault." Robb glanced down, seeing that the bleeding had stopped with the toilet paper held against it, and he knew he ought to clean and bandage the wounds, but he couldn't bring himself to move away from Theon.

“It is, it’s my fault, all my fault...” Theon reached for him, wrapped his arms around Robb’s middle and pulled him back closer. He pressed his face against the crook of Robb’s neck, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent. 

"It's not your fault, what he did to you. You didn't do a single thing wrong, Theon," Robb said. "It was me, I sent you away... I drove you away and now you've been hurt. I'm sorry, Theon."

Theon shook his head. “N-no, no, don’t say that, please, wasn’t you, it- it wasn’t.” His arms tightened around Robb, practically clinging to him as if his life depended on it. 

"You know I'd do anything for you," Robb said. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I hurt you first, before Bolton ever got his shot... I wish I could take it back. I wish I could go back and protect you, like I promised I would.

Theon’s trembling worsened as Robb talked, and he sobbed quietly against his shoulder. “N-not your fault, not, please don’t say that, p-please.” It wasn’t Robb’s fault. It was his own, it was his for being bad. If he’d just obeyed his master to begin with, he’d never have gotten hurt. 

"It's not your fault. You— He shouldn't have hurt you. He doesn't own you, no matter what he said or did to you. You're Theon Greyjoy, remember? What is dead may never die," he said, quoting this from Theon himself. Theon had heard his father say it when he was young, and for weeks after, Theon would spout it off. "But rises again, harder and stronger," he continued. "Remember?"

“I wish I- I wish I had- I should’ve died, I wish I’d died,” Theon sobbed quietly, tears soaking into Robb’s shirt. “‘m not strong, I-I’m weak, I’m weak, weak, rhymes-“ He cut himself off with a strangled little sound, not wanting to scare Robb off with the rhyming. 

"Never say that again," Robb said, voice sharper than he intended. He corrected himself immediately. "Please, don't. Don't say that. You're strong— Strong enough to have made it home."

Theon flinched and quickly pulled his arms away, wrapping them snugly around himself instead. “I’m- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t. I-I won’t. Please don’t be mad, I-I’m sorry, please...” 

Robb backed away. He had never felt so guilty in his life, with Theon staring up at him with those haunted eyes, as though Robb was Ramsay... 

"I'm not mad," he said. "I'm sorry I snapped, I didn't mean... You scared me. I don't want to hear you talk like that."

“I’m sorry.” Theon repeated, voice soft and weak. He shifted his gaze to look around the room, to look anywhere except at Robb’s face. He could see the disappointment there, he swore he could, and he didn’t want to. “I- I should go- I’m just- I should.” He stood up shakily, catching himself on the bathroom counter when he stumbled and almost fell. 

"Don't go!" Robb cried out, grabbing Theon's thin wrist. His heart was pounding with sheer desperation. He turned Theon to face him, looking into his eyes. "Please. Don't go. Not again."

“I only- I only meant to Sansa’s room.” Theon winced, Robb’s grip causing the bruises on his wrists to ache. He couldn’t meet Robb’s eyes and instead stared at the floor. “I-I’ve been staying there.” 

"How long?" he asked quietly, loosening his grip on his wrist.

“I’m n-not- not sure- five days?” Theon guessed. He wasn’t very good with keeping track of time. He quickly pulled his arm away once Robb’s grip was loosened, quietly examining the bruises left by the cuffs he’d worn for so long. 

Robb's eyes lingered on the bruises, something he had barely taken notice of until now. Guilt fluttered in his chest. "He cuffed you?" he asked tonelessly.

Theon remained silent for a few minutes before he nodded and answered, voice barely audible. “From the ceiling.” 

"From the ceiling?" Robb echoed, looking sick. "You... You hung from your wrists? For a month?"

He nodded again, staring at his wrists instead of looking up at Robb. To be fair, he had been let down a few times... “Not- not always. My m-master was kind.” Ramsay did let him down on some very rare occasions. 

Robb shook his head. He didn't dare say anything else on the topic for fear of upsetting Theon further and making him run. 

"If you could sit back down, I can take care of that," Robb said after a long moment, nodding towards the cuts on Theon's thigh. Self-inflicted, he reminded himself, hating the very thought.

“They’re fine.” Theon insisted, but he stepped back and sat back down on the edge of the tub. “M-master would leave them. They’ll heal on their- on their own.” 

"I'm not him," Robb replied. "Thank the gods." He knelt before him, taking a fresh wad of toilet paper and dampening it, cleaning away the dried remnants of blood. There was disinfectant under the sink, and he cleaned the cuts gently before taking a handful of bandages and applying them.

When Theon stood again, he realized he’d left the towel lying on the edge of the tub. He hurried to cover himself up, not wanting Robb to see the bruises covering his thighs. 

Of course, he did notice them, but he knew better than to pry deeper in when Theon was already so skittish. He would tell him when he was ready, Robb knew, though he felt a wrenching sensation in his gut. Besides... He knew what those bruises entailed. 

He offered a hand to Theon to help him up.

Theon took his hand, trying to ignore the phantom sensations in the missing parts of his fingers. “I’m sorry. I-I can just go to Sansa’s now. You don’t have- you don’t have to worry about me.” 

Robb shifted uncomfortably. "Don't go to Sansa's room," he said after a moment. "She's not home yet, nobody is. I left school early... Come to my room, if you want." It was almost selfish of him. As much as he didn't want Theon to be alone, Robb himself also could not bear the thought of Theon by himself, just down the hall. Apparently, where he had been since Sunday. He had missed him so painfully, and couldn't push away the need to keep an eye on him, to finally make good on that promise to protect him and make sure Theon didn't hurt himself again... make sure he didn't leave again.

“Okay.” Theon nodded slowly, mindlessly moving closer so that he was practically pressed to Robb’s side. “Okay. I’ll come with you.” 

They went down the hall, and Robb took notice of Theon's remaining limp but didn't remark on it. Grey Wind lifted his head when Robb opened the door, and at the sight of Theon, his tail began to wag. All the dogs had smelled Theon's scent, of course, but none had seen him besides Lady and Queenie.

"Scoot," Robb said, indicating for Grey Wind to move over and make room for Theon. The dog obliged, and his tongue lolled in joy as Robb helped Theon to lie down.

“Hi, Grey.” Theon smiled weakly, curling up on Robb’s bed, the blankets warm and soft and smelling of Robb. He reached out to scratch behind Grey Wind’s ears. “Good boy.” 

Robb knelt on the floor beside the bed and took Theon's left hand in his own. The stub of the pinkie was more or less healed, but ugly and raw looking. The ring finger was only missing to the first knuckle, and bore a fresh bandage. Sansa's work, no doubt. He shoved aside the churning guilt in his gut and let go of his hand. It relaxed, limp, to the mattress. 

"Did you want anything to eat?" Robb asked.

Theon shook his head, voice soft when he answered. “No, thank you, ‘m not hungry.” In reality, he was a bit hungry, but he didn’t need to eat. He was used to skipping meals all the time. And anyway, he didn’t want Robb to have to do anything for him. He was enough of a burden as it was. He turned onto his side, facing away from Robb, not wanting to see any more of the guilt or pity on his face. “I- I should really go back to Sansa’s room.” 

"Please don't," Robb said quietly. "Unless that's where you're more comfortable. But don't go just because of me, I'll... I can leave you alone, if you want."

“I just don’t wanna be a burden.” Theon toyed with the towel tied around his waist, back facing Robb.

"You're never a burden. I want to help you," Robb said. His eyes trailed sadly over the whip scars crossed over his back, to the patch of messily-healed missing skin.

“Okay.” Theon answered simply, pulling one of Robb’s blankets up to cover himself. “I- if it gets to be- if I’m too difficult, you can send me away.” 

"Never," Robb said with the utmost conviction. Theon exhaled slowly, relaxing into the mattress. Robb remained on the floor, while Grey Wind lay his head beside Theon's, his tail still wagging over the blankets. 

They were quiet; Grey Wind's snuffling breaths were the only sound. Robb wasn't sure if Theon was asleep, or just avoiding the inevitable talk they needed to have, but he wasn't going to push it. He would give Theon as much time as he needed.


	60. Chapter 60

Theon was hesitant to go down for breakfast the next morning, but Robb seemed like he really wanted him to come. Robb had given him clothes to wear- Robb’s clothes, not Theon’s own, a baggy dark blue sweater and some old worn-out jeans. They were comfortable and smelled overwhelmingly of Robb, even if they were too big. He hesitated by the door as Robb finished getting dressed, looking up at him with wide eyes and holding out his hand toward him.

Robb took it, clasping it tight and leading him from the room. Grey Wind padded contentedly beside them, and Queenie, who had joined them last night, bounced along at Theon's heels.

Voices in the kitchen were shouting, squalling over who got the next piece of bacon. The smell of cinnamon buns permeated the air.

Theon leaned against Robb just a little bit, the rich smell of food making his stomach growl. His heart was pounding, anxiety causing him to tremble. Half the Stark’s didn’t even know he was back, and the excitement was obvious when he entered the kitchen and Rickon practically screamed.

“Theon!” The youngest Stark shrieked, jumping out of his seat and knocking over his cup of orange juice in the process. He fell onto the floor but quickly scrambled back up onto his feet and full-on launched himself at Theon.

"Rickon—" Robb lunged forward and grabbed the hood of Rickon's doggie sweater. The fuzzy ears flopped helplessly as Rickon looked furiously up at him.

"I want Theon!" he wailed, forcing his little face into an angry pout.

"Be careful!" Robb said, letting him down slowly.

Theon felt his heart melt as he looked at little Rickon, fighting to get past Robb to him. Theon smiled a tiny bit and opened his arms.

Rickon lunged forward the second Robb let go of the hood, hugging Theon with so much force that he almost fell over.

“Hey buddy.” Theon patted the top of his head softly and Rickon pressed his face against Theon’s stomach.

“I missed you!” The littlest Stark wailed, arms staying tight around him.

"I told you to be careful," Robb said, annoyed. A grating squeak of a chair drew his attention. Sansa was scooting back from the table, coming towards them with bags under her eyes and her hair an uncombed mess. She clearly had not slept, and she looked as though she'd been crying.

"He was with you?" she asked. "I— I thought he had left. I was so scared."

"When did Theon get here?" Arya demanded, slamming the butt of her knife down on the table so they all jolted and turned to look at her.

When Theon looked up from Rickon and saw the state Sansa was in, he felt the smile instantly fall from his face. He hadn’t told her. Robb hadn’t told her. She must’ve gotten home from school and saw him gone and... he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to run from the room. “Oh- oh Sansa- I-I’m Sorry- I’m sorry, Sansa.”

"It's okay," Sansa said, shaking her head. She pushed her mussed hair out of her face, looked at him, and dashed in for a hug. "I'm just so glad you're okay."

"Sorry I didn't tell you," Robb said sheepishly. "I didn't think about it." Sansa shot him a foul look with a silent promise to chew him out later.

He hugged her with one arm, the other still wrapped around little Rickon who was clinging to his side, refusing to stop hugging him. “I-I’m okay, Sansa, I’m okay.” He assured her.

Bran eyed Theon curiously from the table, sounding- as always- oddly proper for a boy of his age. “It’s good to see you again, Theon.”

“Where were you?” Arya raised her voice, wanting to be paid attention to. Theon’s face flushed.

“I was with my m- my- I was away.”

"You were away for a while," she replied skeptically. "Where were you?"

Seeing how uncomfortable and on edge Theon was, Robb stepped in. "It's not your business, Ary," he snapped. Arya scowled at him and opened her mouth for a retort, but Catelyn intervened by entering the room with a heaping plate of plump homemade cinnamon buns.

Theon whimpered and stumbled back, pressing against Robb as he stared at the cinnamon buns. Ramsay had made him those once, fresh and hot and homemade, when he’d been spoiling him. They smelled so good and his mind was floating back to Ramsay’s house, to Ramsay’s hands in his hair and lips on his skin. “I-I think I need to go to the bathroom.”

"Okay," Robb agreed without a second thought. They left the dining room with Sansa trailing after them, looking perplexed.

"Did something just happen?" she asked.

"I got it," he replied. "You can go back."

She halted, staring after them, a little hurt but not protesting. Robb ushered Theon down the hall towards the first floor bathroom.

“He- he made- I was being good, and he...” Theon trailed off, staring down at his hands. Ramsay had sucked his cock then made him breakfast, and Theon had felt terribly guilty the whole time. “One of the times when he let me- when he let me out, he made me breakfast, a-and- and- and-“ He shuddered, taking a tiny step away from Robb. “M-master spoiled me, and I repaid him by being b-bad, I’m- I’m so bad, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

"Making you breakfast one time isn't spoiling you," Robb said. He studied Theon miserably. "What else did he feed you? ...did he feed you at all?"

“He- I- yes- of course!” Theon looked at Robb with wide eyes. “I- I don’t know what- b-but he did, my master was kind, he- he was kind, he fed me sometimes, he did...”

"Sometimes?" he echoed. "You need to eat consistently! That's... That's not kind. That's abuse." Robb paused, scrubbing a hand over his face. He sighed. "Theon, he wasn't kind to you. He hurt you beyond belief."

Theon flinched away. He didn’t like that, not one bit. “N-no, he didn’t, he- he was kind- master was kind, he was, he only- he only hurt me when I was b-bad, I swear it, I swear, he- he loved me, he was kind, he was!”

"Then what's that?" Robb demanded, indicating the carved name. "Those?" He gestured to the whip scars over his belly. "How about that skinned patch on your back? That's what a kind master does?"

A sob forced its way out of Theon’s throat and he stumbled back, away from Robb, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “I-I was bad- those are- that’s all because I was bad- he had to punish me, he did, you- you don’t understand!”

"You're right. I don't." Robb took a step back and sat down on the edge of the tub. "How in the seven hells could you have been so bad to deserve that?" Without waiting for an answer, he plowed on. "You couldn't have been. It's not possible. You— You're a good person, Thee. And he's not. He got off on hurting you and making you think you deserved it, and he wanted to break you. He wasn't punishing you, he was flat-out torturing you."

Theon sobbed again, loudly, tears starting to flow down his flushed and sunken cheeks. “N-no- no- he loved me, he loved me, he wouldn’t, he- he didn’t, he didn’t, I swear it, he was kind, he- he was kind, he was!” He wasn’t sure he could bear to think that Ramsay had done all he had just for the fun of it. He wasn’t sure he could handle knowing that it was all for no real reason.

Robb thought for a moment. "You know, I... He may actually have loved you. But he has a twisted sense of it, and had to feel like he owned you, so you could never leave him." He looked up at Theon. "But you did. You left, and you saved yourself, and I'm so proud of you, Thee."

“N-no- I didn’t- he made me, I didn’t, he made me- he made me!” Theon sobbed, closing his eyes tightly. He hadn’t left, no, master had made him leave, his master had hunted him like a worthless animal and the memory was enough to make Theon completely break down, leaning against the wall just to stay upright.

"He made you?" Robb asked, leaning forward. He so desperately wanted to ask how, but Theon was near panicking. Robb stood and stepped towards him. "Still. You're home. You're safe, and that's what matters, right?"

Theon shook his head frantically. “N-no, not safe, he- he could come- he could, at any time, and I- I need him, I need my m-master, you don’t understand, you don’t understand!” Theon’s remaining nails dug into the skin of his arms as he held himself. “I’m bad, I’m bad, I’m- I’m a bad pet, a bad pup, I’m so bad, you don’t understand...”

"He won't come," Robb said. "And if he does, he can't touch you. You have all of us here, and five huge dogs. Besides that, why do you keep calling yourself bad? And pet? You're not his pet."

“I-I need him,” Theon admitted, voice cracking. “He owns me, I- I’m his, his pet, his bad pup, I- he- I’m so bad, I- I’m so bad, he doesn’t want me, not anymore, he doesn’t want me anymore, he- he made me leave, he made me, I didn’t run, I didn’t want to...”

"If he doesn't want you, that's a good thing. He's set you free," he said, changing tactics. "So you're not his anymore. You're free to be you again."

“Free...” Theon repeated quietly, slowly opening his eyes and looking up at Robb. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks as he spoke. “I- he- Robb... hold me?”

He spread his arms and Theon stumbled into them, laying his head against his chest. They stood like that for a while, silent, just breathing in the presence of each other. Robb was struck again with how much he had missed Theon, and still missed him, because this? This was a shell of his Theon, and he so direly needed him back, needed him whole again. He held Theon to him, mindful of his rawer wounds, and he wanted to eviscerate Ramsay Bolton. Theon's frame was fragile, diminished, and Ramsay had done that to him.

Theon trembled in his embrace, wrapping his frail arms around Robb’s middle and holding on as tightly as he could. “I-I missed you.”

He had, he’d missed Robb so dearly, had cried to himself constantly over the supposed ‘death’ of his best friend. The reason his master had decided to hunt him was because he’d cried Robb’s name when Ramsay brought him to orgasm.

"I missed you too," he said thickly. He knew he'd said it already, but... "Please never leave again. You can't go back there, he'll just hurt you again. I can't bear to see you hurt like this."

“I-I won’t, I won’t go back. My ma- Ramsay,” He corrected himself, “He wouldn’t want me back anyway.”

"You don't want him back," Robb corrected. "You're too good for him. You deserve better, you deserve more."

Theon shook his head, pressing his face against the crook of Robb’s neck. “N-no, I don’t. I’m not even whole anymore.”

"You can be. You will be, again. You just need time."

* * *

 

Damon pushed his hair back out of his face, long blonde strands falling back as he rolled over in bed to look at Skinner. He was getting real sick of Ramsay acting like such a bitch, moping and sulking around constantly. More than once, he and Skinner had caught Ramsay down in Theon’s old room in the basement. He’d caught Ramsay sitting on the floor holding one of Theon’s filthy old blankets at one point, caked with blood and come and filth. The basement room still smelled foul, as if Theon were rotting away there, and Damon didn’t get why the hell Ramsay spent so much time there.

“I’m getting real sick of Ramsay’s moping shit.” Damon announced, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his naked torso.

"He's been really off since the kid got away," Skinner agreed. He set down his book and glanced over at Damon. "It's almost like he misses him."

Damon snorted, wincing a tiny bit as he sat up. “Almost? He absolutely misses it.”

"I can't see why," Skinner said. Contradicting Damon, he leaned further back into the pillows. "He was livid when he escaped and he didn't get to finish the hunt."

“It took him forever to break it. He lost all his hard work like that.” Damon snapped his fingers, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “He’s probably horny. No more pet to play with.”

"No, it's... It's different. More than that." Skinner thought for a moment. "You don't think... You don't think he loved him, do you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y’all wanna read the Damon and Skinner behind the scenes action from this chap, here u go: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075570


	61. Chapter 61

Damon was gaping at him, struck dumb by the question. Skinner rolled his eyes. "Come on, you can't tell me it doesn't connect some dots. Even if Ramsay himself doesn't realize it—or didn't, he may have now—he was always more lenient with the kid than he was with any of the others he kept. Also, he kept him for months. That's incredible patience, for Ramsay."

“You’re right, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.” Damon answered after a few moments, grimacing. “I can’t- ugh- I mean, I can believe it, but Ramsay? In love? And with not just anyone, but with that gross little bitch?”

"Maybe he was different than the rest," Skinner joked. "Maybe he was a better fuck. Who knows?" He stretched languidly and transferred his book from his lap to the bedside table. "I wouldn't understand, anyways, would I?" he added, smirking at Damon.

Damon shrugged. “It wasn’t a great fuck, in my opinion. Ramsay must just have bad taste...” He turned and grinned at Skinner. “I guess you’re the only person in this house who has good taste.”

"And you," Skinner said cockily. "And I guess old Roose does too, just not much in the looks department. Fat Walda is awfully sweet, though, isn't she? Shocking that this place hasn't destroyed her already." He stared up at the ceiling, trailing the blades of the ceiling fan as they spun, lost in thought. "I thought Ramsay had been. Not by this, he was fucked up before he ever met us. The last person he..." Skinner shook his head. "Remember Helicent's namesake?"

“Ah yes, she was a pretty one. The first hunt.” Damon sighed fondly, a glimmer in his eyes. He reached over, running his fingers through Skinner’s short, sandy-blonde hair, looking down at him almost fondly. “It’s too bad they aren’t all that pretty. Though, I suppose, if we hunted just based on looks, I’d be long gone. I am the most gorgeous person in Westeros, after all.”

"Not according to the little pup," Skinner said with a laugh. "'Robb, oh Robb!" he called out mockingly, forcing his voice into a cruel falsetto impersonation of Theon.

Damon snorted, tugging a tiny bit at Skinner’s hair before moving his hand away. “In the bitch’s defense, that Stark cunt was awful pretty. He had these gorgeous blue eyes, and such soft auburn curls. I’m sure his ass would feel brilliant.”

"I'm sure if Ramsay gets his way, we'll be bringing them both in," Skinner said. "Wouldn't that be a hell of a hunt? The Young Wolf, and Ramsay's lover. That is, if he hasn't realized it yet."

“Even if Ramsay realizes he loves the bitch, he isn’t gonna admit to it, and you know it.”

"Seven hells, he'd kill him anyways just so he didn't have to deal with his own emotions," Skinner chuckled. "I can understand that."

“He already tried to kill him.” Damon pointed out, shifting over to straddle Skinner’s lap. “He didn’t do a very good job.”

"Fair point," Skinner said, rolling his hips up against Damon's. "I bet you would, though. Wouldn't you?"

Damon groaned slightly, smirk growing on his face. “I would. I’m very good at killing things. And bringing things to life, apparently.” He glanced down at Skinner’s crotch, covered by blankets, and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Yes," Skinner hissed, grabbing Damon's hips. "Yes, you are."

* * *

 

Master’s hands were on him, rough and heavy and strong, holding him by the throat and dragging him roughly down the stairs. He was mad, those blue eyes flooded with rage, and Theon felt as if his heart were about to burst from his chest from how hard it was pounding. He was scared, terrified, tears streaming down his cheeks as his skull thudded painfully against each stair he passed.

The gag and muzzle were back on him, metal straps digging into his skin, making it so all he could do was whimper and cry as his master chained him back up to that dreadful hook on the ceiling, as his master carelessly cut his clothes off with a curved flaying knife, the blade sharp and shining in the dim light of the basement.

Theon wanted to beg, to apologize and plead for forgiveness, to tell his master he loved him and only him, he belonged to him, he would be good- he would, he would. But he couldn’t talk, could only whimper and cry and hope that his master could see in his eyes how sorry he was.

His master wouldn’t even talk, but Theon could read what he was thinking. Bad dog, bad puppy, filthy bitch. That horrible knife trailed along his skin, going down, down, down, until the curved blade was against the base of his cock. Theon was trembling violently, trying to beg, drool dripping from the corners of his lips and tears streaming from his eyes as the blade slid harshly down.

Theon screamed.

Robb bolted upright, looking around wildly for the source of the scream. Half a second later, he looked down, and realized it was Theon (why was he on the floor?), and he was thrashing about with tears tracked down his cheeks. Robb scrambled to the floor, shaking Theon gently.

"Wake up! Thee, wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

“N-no- no! I didn’t do- I’m sorry- I’m sorry- stop- please-“ Theon’s frantic screaming cut off when he opened his eyes and saw Robb looking down at him, Robb, with his soft auburn curls and kind blue eyes. Theon grabbed hold of Robb’s arm, clinging tightly, staring up at him in horror.

Robb scooped him up, moving him back to the bed and nestling him in the mass of blankets.

"What happened?" he asked, brushing a lock of hair back from Theon's forehead.

“He’s gonna- He’s gonna cut more off- b-bad dog, I’m a bad dog,” Theon stammered, clinging to Robb, ducking his head down and hiding his face against his chest.

"Nobody is cutting anything off," Robb said. He glanced surreptitiously down at Theon's hands. "And you're not a dog, Thee. What happened? Why would you think that?"

Theon slowly looked up at Robb, face all scrunched up and ugly, red and wet with tears. “I-he- Robb- Robb, why did he? Why- why did he hurt me so much, if he- if he loved me, w-why?”

"Because he didn't truly love you," Robb replied. It would hurt, but he felt Theon needed to hear it. "He would never, ever have hurt you like that if he did."

He let out a loud sob, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “N-not just him- he let- he’d let the boys hurt me, a-and I’d cry for him, and he wouldn’t do anything! He- he wouldn’t do anything to help!”

"Theon..." Robb said slowly, "what happened when you went back? What did they do to you?"

Theon tensed up at the question, shuddering at the memory of all those hands on him, in him, poking and prodding and beating him. He could still hear them, their laughter and their groans, their taunts and those horrible wet squishing and tearing and gagging noises coming from himself. He could feel it, could remember how it all felt, and it made him want to bleach out his insides. “They- he- they-“ He stammered, struggling to get out the words. “A-all of them- all seven- he let them- it hurt so bad, and he acted like I was gross after, a-as if I wanted it, he let them all r-rape me, all of them, all at once, I- it hurt so bad, Robb, they tore me and- and master was so angry at me after, so angry...”

"Oh, gods..." Robb murmured, because what else could he say? What could he say to him that would make this better? What could he possibly say that would take his pain away? There was nothing. All he could do was try and comfort him, hold his Theon to him and let him cry and vent it out. "Gods, Thee..."

He sobbed loudly, grateful for the comfort of Robb’s arms, the wounds on his body aching as he sorted through his memories. “They made me, I- I didn’t want to, they made me, and master acted like it was my fault!”

"It's not, it wasn't. Never... I know you didn't want to, Thee, it isn't your fault. They forced you. You didn't do anything wrong," Robb said softly.

“They- he only let them have me the one time, b-but he- all the time, he would- he wouldn’t even take me down, he’d just take me when I was hanging there, he didn’t c-care if I bled- he made me wear this...” Theon cut off for a moment, closing his eyes tight so he didn’t have to see Robb’s reaction. “He made me wear a tail.”

"A tail?" Robb grimaced. For Theon's sake, he pushed it away and stroked Theon's hair. It was short yet soft, clean. "For how long?"

“It-it went inside me.” Theon told him, squirming a bit at the mere memory of the discomfort. “He- fuck- he would-“ He whined, hiding his face once again. “He’d rape me, then shove it in while I was all t-torn and bloody. He forced it in me the- the day I went back to him. He was so angry, he chained me up a-and gave me ears a-and a muzzle- and that tail.”

"Muzzle?" Robb asked, enraged. He didn't even want to think about, let alone touch upon the rape. They would discuss that later, Theon would need to, no doubt, but now... "Seven hells, I shouldn't have let you go back. I should have been more careful. I let this happen. I'm so sorry, Thee. I know sorry doesn't cut it, but—"

“Please. Please don’t say that. I- I chose to go back. You didn’t let me- you- you didn’t let me. I called for him. He- it was so much worse when I went back, so much worse,” He clutched at Robb’s shirt loosely with his right hand, lifting his left hand to point at his cheeks. There were faded bruises, soft greens and yellows beneath thin slices of scabbed-over skin where the metal edges of the straps had dug in. “The muzzle, I hated it- I hated it, he- he’d- they all called me a bitch, a bad- a bad dog, a bad dog and a dirty mutt.”

"You're none of those things," he said fiercely, hugging him tight. "You're my brave Theon. You're so strong, Thee, you know that? He put you through all of that and he still couldn't break you."

“B-but he did. He broke me.” Theon said sadly. “I-I don’t think I’d be able to say no if he were to show up and ask me to come with him.”

"I won't let him," Robb said vehemently. "And he hasn't broken you. You're here, with me, telling me what happened. A broken person wouldn't do that, would they? A broken person wouldn't have escaped."

“I- you don’t understand! I didn’t escape! He made me leave! He- he hunted me!” Theon’s voice raised in pitch and volume and he couldn’t hold back the loud sobs that shook through his body after he spoke.

"He hunted you? And you got away? Gods..." Robb tensed in rage. He wanted to hurt Bolton, flay him and feed him to his own damned dogs, but Theon was quivering and falling to pieces in his arms. He couldn't. Not with him like this.

“I-if they’d caught me- if they caught me-“ Theon stammered, shuddering violently at the thought. He’d be tortured, whipped and raped and beaten on the forest floor before the dogs ate him alive. “I-I’ve seen what they do to the girls they hunt, I’ve seen it, if they- if they caught me- I didn’t want to go, I didn’t, he m-made me...”

"It's good that he did," Robb said, "because that allowed you to come home to me." Though Theon was practically in his lap already, Robb wrapped him more securely in his arms and held him. Bolton would come looking for Theon. It struck him suddenly, and he felt dumb but... he would. Without a doubt, he would come, and they would have no warning. Hells, he could show up tomorrow for all Robb knew. He wouldn't voice this, though. Never.

“He said you were dead, a-and Jon, and Queenie, and-“ Theon cut off and tensed. His mom. His mom, Ramsay had said his mom died, but he’d lied about so much. “M-my mom, my mom, Robb, he said she died, too.”

"I don't know if she did or not," Robb said apologetically. "Yara hasn't spoken to me since you went back. She blamed me."

“I need- I need to see her. Please. T-tomorrow? Could we?” He looked up at Robb, eyes wide and wet and rimmed either red.

"Of course. I'll take you there whenever you want," Robb promised. "I haven't even told her you're home, yet," he admitted sheepishly. "I didn't even think of it."

“Thank you. Th-Thank you, thank you.” Theon blabbered out, still staring up at him. “I- thank you. T-thank you.”

"I'd do anything for you," Robb told him. "That hasn't changed. It never will."

Theon just stared at him in silence for a minute before leaning up and kissing him, lips chapped and trembling as they met Robb’s, heart pounding and heavy in his chest.

Robb's gut was twisting with guilt. Theon wasn't in a good state, he shouldn't be kissing him back, but his hands slid down Theon's sides, caressing him lovingly, and he leaned into the kiss, slipping his eyes shut.

Theon whimpered into his mouth, but then he was crying out, shoving Robb away and scrambling back on the mattress. One of Robb’s hands had moved to settle on his hip and all Theon could think of was the weight of his hand, and then Ramsay, Ramsay’s hands heavy on his body, how Ramsay would grab and bruise his hips, and the memory of it sent him reeling. “N-no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry, I’m so s-stupid, so stupid, I can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

"No, I'm—" Self-loathing was gathering in the pit of his stomach. Theon was hurt, and here he was, taking advantage of him again. No matter if Theon had kissed him first, Robb knew better, he did, he... "I shouldn't have."

“I did it, I-It’s my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Theon pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them to himself and closing his eyes tightly.

"No, you're not... It's not your fault. Theon, none of this is your fault," Robb said for the countless time. "You can't help what's been done to you. I need to be careful with what I do."

“I’m the one who kissed you.” Theon insisted, tears still leaking out of his closed eyes and trailing down his reddened cheeks.

"I knew better than to let you," Robb said, shaking his head. "I kissed you back. I keep doing this, man, I keep... I'm so sorry, Thee."

“I-I just- I see you and my whole heart,” His voice cracked as he tried to find the right words to say. “B-but- but I can’t, master would- he’d beat me if I even mentioned you, he’d punish me, I wasn’t allowed- I wasn’t allowed to miss you.”

"Please don't call him that," Robb said with a pained expression. "You never have to see him again. You never have to be scared of him again, you know? I swear it."

“I wasn’t allowed to m-mourn you, I wasn’t, he got so angry... he hunted me because I cried for you. He- he was- he let me upstairs, into bed, and he- he-“ Theon couldn’t bring himself to say it. And Ramsay fucked him. “And when I- when I- yknow- when I, yknow, um- I- I cried for you. I cried your name, n-not his. That’s why- these.” He lifted his hand, gesturing to the missing nails and fingertip.

"That's why he did that?" Robb looked stricken. "And why he hunted you?" Now Robb could only think of how, once again, this was his fault. He had done this, too.

“I just- he was being gentle, and it felt good, and I could only think about you because he- he’s always so rough, he always hurts me, when he- when he fucks me he always t-tears me a-and makes me bleed, b-but this was slow and it felt good a-and I was thinking about you.” Theon shifted, moving his knees a little ways away from his body and looking sadly over at Robb. He rubbed his hand over his face, wiping away some of his tears. “And then, then he knocked me out a-and when I woke up, he was peeling off my fingernails, a-and- and weak- weak, weak, rhymes with freak...”

"You're not weak!" Robb burst out. "That's what he told you, so you would think that! You're not, you're strong, you made it through all that shit and he did not break you!" he said adamantly.

“Weak, no, I’m weak, it rhymes with freak.” Theon’s eyes were wide but he looked away from Robb, staring at the wall. “Weak, weak, it rhymes with freak. Bleak. Meek. Rhymes with reek, I reek, master says so, he does.”

"Theon!" Robb put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Theon, please, come on... Stop doing that, please? None of that is true."

“Reek...” Theon’s voice cracked. “He- he was nicer when I- when I rhymed- reek, reek, rhymes with freak... master likes the rhyming, he does, m-master likes it, tells me I’m good.”

"But you don't have to please him anymore. He doesn't matter anymore," Robb said, trying to reason with him. Every rhyme that fell from his lips made Robb feel ill, red flags of Ramsay's influence. But, every aspect of Theon right now was a sign of his influence.

“He’ll know, he knows, everything I do he knows- I don’t know how, I don’t, b-but he does. He knows what I’m thinking, he knows everything I’m done, he- he knew I left the necklace here- I- when I left the necklace, he knew, I don’t know how he knew but he knew I didn’t lose it, he knew it was here, he was so angry. He made me- he- he punished me, the tail- he put the- he made me hold the plug in my mouth when he- when he-“ Theon’s face screwed up into a pained expression at the thought, the memory of his hips hitched up and Ramsay’s cock fucking brutally into him as he cried and cried and cried.

Robb twitched. That, too, was his fault, even more directly than anything else, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Theon. Gods, he was supposed to be Theon's best friend. He was supposed to love Theon, but all he had managed to do was hurt him.

"It doesn't matter if he does know," Robb said, "because he can't hurt you here. Never."

“He can. He can, anywhere, he doesn’t have to be here. He- he’s hurting me right now, Robb, I can feel it, I can feel him on me and inside me and-“ He choked off into a sob, shaking his head. “I can- I can feel his hands all over me, all the time, a-and it hurts, everything hurts.”

"I know it's not what you want to hear, but that will go away, and it will take time but you'll recover. I know you will. We—" he broke off, studying Theon's face. Always the proud sort, he didn't think Theon would be too keen on it, but things had changed. Now, after Bolton? Maybe. "We could get you a therapist. Ary saw one for a while, after dad, and she is doing better."

“N-no, no, I can’t, I don’t want to,” He shifted his gaze over to Robb. “He- Robb, he did so much. I can’t- I can’t just talk about it to a stranger, I can barely tell you, I- I was in that basement for so long. He hung me naked by my wrists, he made me wear this- this thick collar, it was so heavy, Sansa had to pick the lock to get it off. He- he’d tighten it when he was mad. He’d leave me hanging while he r-raped me, he’d get mad when I cried, and he’d gag me again and muzzle me a-and- the muzzle- the boys, when they- when they took me, they left the muzzle on, so I’d still look l-like the filthy mutt I am.

I can’t, I can’t, I- I feel so sick and scared just telling you, I can’t, it’s like he’s here, staring and listening a-and he knows, it’s like he knows everything, and a therapist might make me press charges and I can’t, I can’t, I c-can’t see him again after everything- he hunted me, Robb, he hunted me like I was- I was supposed to be his pet, his perfect pet, and he hunted me. I-I know what he would’ve done if he- if they caught me. He took me on a hunt once, this- this p-pretty blonde girl, she looked to me for help, and I told her to stop, I-I didn’t want her looking, it made me think bad things a- bad things about leaving my m-master, I told him to make her stop, they took her eyes, Robb, they- they dug her eyes out because of me.”

Guilt weighed heavy in Theon’s chest as he talked about it, as he remembered it, the tears streaming from that girl’s pretty blue eyes before they gouged them out, the way blood dripped from the sockets like tears as the boys raped her, one after the other, and then while even Ramsay took her. It was his fault they took her eyes. They could’ve just raped and killed her, but he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t handle the way she looked at him, and she had to endure so much pain because of it... so much pain because he was so weak.

"Gods... Oh, gods, Theon..." What else could he say? There was nothing he could say or do to help him, to fix him, or if there was Robb didn't know what. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. All he could think to say was 'I'm sorry', and what good would that do? All he could think to do was hug Theon, and so he did.

“They dug out her eyes.” Theon repeated, leaning against Robb, leaning into the embrace, “And Ramsay told me I was a good boy because of it.”

"It's not your fault," he breathed. "They would have tortured her in other ways. You didn't want to, didn't mean to."

“Her name was Tansy. I didn’t see any other hunts, but- Kyra- oh gods, Kyra, he killed Kyra...” Theon’s voice cracked terribly and he was sobbing loudly again, moving his arms to hold Robb, to cling to him. “My Kyra, they hunted her.”

"Kyra?" Robb choked out. He pulled Theon against his chest. "Wha— How?" How could he have known about her? Kyra and Theon dated two years prior, and sure they maintained a close friendship, but not close enough that Ramsay should even have met her.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I-I hadn’t even talked to her in months but they killed her, they did, he named his little puppy after her, his-his little puppy, his littlest, the dog who- she saved me. When they were hunting me, she- she saved me. Kyra.”

"She saved you?" Robb repeated. It was fitting, Kyra's dog saving him. "She's a good girl. She must have been loyal to you," he said.

“She killed Kyra. She- she’s saved me twice, but she killed Kyra. My Kyra. He- he told me she fucking killed Queenie.” Theon looked at him, brows furrowed, a hint of anger in his expression.

Scratch that, then. "She didn't, though, you know that. Queenie is sleeping right over there," he said, pointing to where the dog was, curled in a plush rose-pink doggie bed. "And Kyra— that was Bolton. Dogs do what they're trained to do, she couldn't be blamed for—" He shook his head, interrupting his own train of thought. "I'm sorry, Thee. It's all Bolton, he..."

“I know. I know it’s him. I-I know what he is like.” The anger was growing and Theon was confused. He hadn’t felt angry in a long while, he wasn’t allowed to feel angry, being angry was being ungrateful and bad and being bad meant being punished. “I-I hate what he did to me. I hate it. He fucking- he fucking broke me, he cut pieces of me off, Robb, there are- there are literal pieces of me missing, fucking- fucking fingers and nails and teeth. A-and skin.”

"And we'll pay him back for every bit," Robb vowed, hatred churning. "We'll feed him to the damned dogs if we have to. Anything to save you." To avenge him, he thought instead.

Queenie looked up at yipped at mention of ‘the dogs’ and Theon giggled weakly between sobs at the thought of tiny Queenie eating Ramsay. “N-no, I don’t want the dogs to eat him. I-I don’t think he’d taste very good.” He joked with a weak, forced smile.

"Fair," Robb agreed. "We'll have to think of something else, then." He adjusted his hold on Theon, looking down at him and stroking a hand over his back. "With everything that he did to you, you should pick what happens to him."

“I don’t care. I just don’t want him to hurt me or anyone. And his boys-“ Theon shuddered. “I- I hate the boys, I hate them, there was one that I- I trusted one of them, he was- he wasn’t nice, but he looked at me like I was human, the others just looked- they looked at me like I was Ramsay’s dog, but then,” He closed his eyes. “When they were allowed to take me, he did. He- he raped me, alone with the rest of them, he cut me a-and skinned my back, they fucking call him Skinner, and I fucking trusted him. I thought he could help me.”

Robb's heart was twisting in his chest. Gods, his poor Thee... And where was he for all this? Home, wallowing because Theon had left him again. Home, trying in vain to figure out how to get Theon back home without trouble. Damned if he didn't try, but he should have just gone in and raised all seven hells. Rather than be afraid, he should have fought to free him.

"They'll never hurt you again."

“It‘ll never stop hurting.” Theon argued. “I can’t- I can’t get my skin back, I can’t get my fingers and my nails and my fucking tooth. I- I never should’ve left here. I should’ve listened to you at first, when you warned me, but I didn’t know- I didn’t know! He seemed so sweet, and I just wanted to be loved, I-I wanted someone to love me.”

That, too, was his fault. How much else? What else had Robb done to him? What else had Robb driven to happen?

"We can't grow back your finger, but the nails will grow back, and you can get a skin graft for your back, a fake tooth, and— and you can get tattoos, to cover the scars!" Robb said. "It won't make it so it didn't happen, but it'll help. And you didn't know, it's not your fault. He— Bolton is a good liar, he's good at tricking people."

“A tattoo.” Theon nodded slowly, pulling back from the embrace to look down at his own clothed chest. He looked up at Robb and then back down, taking the hem of his shirt and carefully lifting it over his head, tossing the shirt on the floor. “His name. His name- his name is on me, Robb, it’s carved into me.”

"I know," Robb said, his heart breaking for Theon. That would be there forever. "You can get a big tattoo to cover it, so you won't even have to see that anymore."

He reached for Robb’s hand slowly, hesitantly taking hold of his wrist. He lifted the hand, pulling it toward him so Robb’s fingers brushed over the raised scars. “I’ll feel them. I’ll- I’ll always feel them.”

The letters were raised, somewhat jagged lines in his flesh, and Robb's fingers skimmed over them. His other hand clenched into a fist.

"I know," he repeated, "but... but you won't have to look at it. They'll fade over time and it won't feel like bad anymore, I promise."

“I’m like- I’m like one big scar.” Theon chuckled weakly. “You haven’t even seen anything and you’re horrified. I see it. I- I see the way you look at me. It’s different, it’s not- it’s not the same, Robb. I just want it to go back to normal, how it was, I don’t want to be- I don’t-“ He rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t want to be someone’s broken toy. Someone’s leftovers. Ramsay told me that, you know. He- he said you wouldn’t ever want me, after he had me.”

"He was wrong," Robb said quietly. He couldn't deny the rest; what had been done to Theon was utterly horrific, but he could never... "He only said that to hurt you. I love you, Thee, I never stopped and I never could, no matter what happens. And I failed you. I could have stopped this and saved you before it ever began, if I didn't push you away."

“I wish you told me. That you loved me. And then everything happened with Jeyne and-“ He paused. “Jeyne. Where is she?”

"We," he looked away, "broke up, just over three weeks ago. Just after you came home, and left again. I couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't fair to her, and I think she knew, but she hoped." Robb drew in a deep breath and looked back down at Theon. "She said that she wants things to work out. For us, I mean." Then, looking awkward, he added, "If you— Not right now. Right now, I just want to help you recover."

He nodded slowly. “I- I can’t. I can’t be with you. Not right now. I do love you, I- I do, but I still feel like I’m not allowed. He- he’d hurt me, and ask me if you would do that. When I cried your name. Would Robb do this?“

Aghast, Robb cried, "I wouldn't! Thee, you know I wouldn't! I'd never hurt you!" But he had, he reminded himself. He hurt him first. He started this all.

“I know, I know, but I- I couldn’t even pretend to be with you, because he’d hurt me, he- he always reminded me it was him, always reminded me, when he hurt me, when he fucked me, when I cried because he told me you f-fucking died.” He had tried, a few times, to close his eyes and pretend it was Robb when Ramsay fucked him, but Ramsay knew- Theon could swear that he somehow knew, and that’s when he’d be told to open his eyes, that’s when he’d be beaten and yelled at.

"But you're home now. Now you're free from him," Robb said. He wanted Theon to remember this, fixate on this. He didn't have to worry about Bolton anymore, and he knew that it wasn't going to be that easy for him, but he needed him to remember it. He needed Theon to be whole again.


	62. Chapter 62

They expected that Balon’s car would not be in the driveway when they reached the Greyjoy household. Nonetheless, Theon let out a sigh of relief when they got there and saw that it wasn’t. There was only Yara’s truck. It was raining out, but Theon didn’t mind. When was the last time he saw rain? Felt rain? He’d lived in a basement for months, and the raindrops on his skin felt better than he could ever remember them feeling. He offered Robb a small smile, leaning on him a bit as they walked up to the front porch. Theon knocked, grimacing at the way the vibration caused his wounded fingers to ache. 

“Who the fuck-“ 

Yara Greyjoy threw open the door and went silent the second her eyes landed on her brother. She could see the gaunt look of his face, the way his clothes hung off of him. She could see the way his eyes no longer glimmered the way the used to, and how his gaze flickered around just a little too much to be normal. His hair was shorter, and had paled to just a shade lighter, as did his skin. 

“Yara,” Theon said slowly, voice shaking. “Let me- l-let me see mom.”

"Theon?" Yara choked out. She took a half-step towards him, eyes wide like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Theon, you're home," and she was lurching forward, wrapping her arms around her baby brother and pulling him into a tight hug. "Why'd you go back to him, dumbass?" Her gaze slid over to Robb, standing awkwardly behind Theon, not wanting to intrude. "And why didn't you tell me he was home?"

"I only recently found out," he said defensively. "And then it slipped my mind."

“I- he would’ve hurt them if I didn’t go back.” Theon replied timidly, hugging her back. He tightened his arms around her, breathing in the scent of salt and sweat. Even if they weren’t near the sea, Yara always smelled of it. It was comforting. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft call of “Yara?” coming from inside. A girl walked up to the doorway, wearing a shirt that reached her knees- one of Yara’s old shirts. 

White-blonde hair fell in waves down her back, with two entwined braids. Robb blinked. 

"Dany?" he asked. "You are Yara are...? How do you know each other?"

"She was on my volleyball team," Yara replied, winking at Daenerys. "My star player, besides Ygritte. Sexy, too."

Theon shifted awkwardly, stepping back from his sister’s embrace. He knew Dany, but it wasn’t like they were close- they’d never really talked after he’d tried and failed to seduce her in the ninth grade. He didn’t want to talk about Ramsay or his mom in front of her. He glanced nervously over at Robb. “I- um- Yara, could I please- me and Robb, I mean- could we talk to you alone?” 

"Of course," Yara said. They went to the living room, and Daenerys went off to the kitchen, sashaying her hips and drawing Yara's eyes to her ass. She grinned appreciatively before settling on the couch with Theon. Robb hovered awkwardly before going over and sitting in an armchair nearby. He wanted to give them at least a bit of privacy, but still wanted to be in Theon's line of sight. No. He wanted Theon to be in his line of sight. He couldn't bear to not be able to see him, not again. 

"So," Yara said, crossing her arms. "You wanted to talk?" Now the joy was fading from her face, and she looked at Theon almost accusingly.

“Mom.” Theon blurted out, nodding quickly. He was wringing his hands, nervous, eyes wide, and it was obvious that he was scared of what Yara might say. “He- he said she was dead, he played me these voicemails, b-but he also said Robb died and Jon died a-and Queenie died, he showed me Jon’s bloody head b-but Jon is alive, and so is Robb, so the voicemails were fake, right? Moms still alive? Mom didn’t die, right?” 

Yara drew in a sharp breath. She glanced at Robb, a question in her eyes, and he shook his head and shrugged helplessly. She nodded curtly. 

"Her funeral was the 21st," Yara said. Her eyes flicked over Theon's face with the barest hint of guilt as the words sank in, and tears welled in his eyes.

“No,” He whispered, horror and guilt and despair all flashing across his expression at once. “The- the voicemails were real? She recognized you? She asked for me?” 

"In a way. She kept saying your name. Said she loved you, asked if you were coming. If you were okay." Yara looked away, staring at the floor. "She was delirious on medication, but it was the most of her there that I've seen in such a long time."

Theon felt like he was falling apart. He thought Ramsay had broken him, but this... this... his mother really was dead. He’d missed her final days, final moments, he’d missed her funeral. His mother was buried six feet underground and he wasn’t even there to say goodbye. He quickly hid his head in his hands to muffle his sobs. He couldn’t hold them back. 

He was crying, and it was ugly, all shaking shoulders and runny nose, face screwed up into an ugly expression, sobs loud and choking, breath harsh and labored. His mother was dead. Dead. He’d never have a chance to see his mama again, not even her body, he’d never hear her voice or feel her arms around him. He’d still hoped, even after everything and after all those years he’d hoped she’d come around, and now she was dead. Dead, and he wasn’t even there to say goodbye. 

She asked if he was coming, if he was okay, and he’d been getting tortured in a basement the whole time. He hoped Yara hadn’t told her anything about Ramsay. He hoped his mother didn’t think he abandoned her. He couldn’t have come to see her, he couldn’t have known, he was locked up and hurt terribly- but he felt guilty all the same. 

"It was quick," Yara said, as though that would help. "She was really sick and had another stroke, it was a matter of a minute. She didn't feel anything, she was unconscious halfway through it and just... She wouldn't have blamed you, Theon. She didn't know where you were, I never told her, just that you were away."

“I didn’t know, I didn’t have my phone, I didn’t know!” Theon sobbed, sliding his feet out of his shoes so he could pull them up onto the couch, clutching his knees to his chest. It made him smaller, as if that would somehow make everything hurt less. He could’ve had his mama back, even just for a little bit, if only he weren’t so stupid. If only he’d listened to Robb about Ramsay, or escaped one of the many times he’d had the chance. When the cop came. When Robb and Yara came. When he actually did escape, but went running back. 

His hands rested atop his knees, fingers splayed out overtop of them, eyes shut and head bowed to hide his face. He ached everywhere, all over his body, but the heavy ache in his chest was the worst of all. 

"It's not your fault," Yara soothed. Sometimes, like now, she wanted to be angry. She wanted to rage and scream at him, because he was the biggest idiot she had ever known, but she couldn't look him in the eyes and do that. Her baby brother, broken to pieces and glued shoddily back together— or, in the process of it, by the boy sitting in the armchair across from them, hands in his lap and looking uncomfortable. Robb was Robb, enough said, but Theon... Her baby brother, the mama's boy. Screaming wouldn't help him now, it was too late for anything now. He was shriveled and shattered, whimpering in his huddled ball. That wasn't her brother, not truly. Bolton had done that, she reminded herself, and Theon wasn't who she needed to be angry with.

He was so confused, so fucking confused and hurt and he wished Ramsay had caught him and killed him on the hunt so he didn’t have to feel this way anymore. He wiped his face with one of his maimed hands, settling on using it to cover his mouth to muffle the sobs that shook his whole body. He wanted his mother. He wanted her alive and back to normal, and she’d been alive, she’d been even a shred of her old self, and he wasn’t there for it. He wanted her there, to stroke his hair and clean and bandage his wounds, to make him cookies and kiss his cheeks and call him her little Theon, her darling boy, her sweet baby. He wanted to hide in her arms and cry until he felt better again, like he did when he was little and his big brothers had hurt him. 

It was like his mother had died all over again. She’d died when he was in that basement, and it had taken the last bit of fight out of him. And then he’d had a spark of hope, no matter how small, only to have it put out almost immediately. 

“I should’ve been there, I-I should’ve been there, I should have.” He managed to choke out between sobs. 

"That's not all, Theon," Yara said, shifting her weight on the couch. Across from them, Robb blinked in surprise. There was more? More bad news, to hurt Theon? She wasn't waiting for a response from Theon, though, merely plowing onward.

"Before mom got sick, dad had gone fishing, and there was a storm." She grimaced. "He didn't make it back to shore and capsized."

Ramsay should’ve killed him, he should’ve fucking killed him, because everything would be so much easier if he were dead. He missed the basement. He missed his chains. Because his master didn’t care about him or how he felt, and all Theon had to worry about there was master, what master wanted, how to keep master from being angry or punishing him. He was useless now, outside of that basement, worthless and weak and everything would be so much easier if he’d just died instead of escaping. His fingers curled, the nails he had digging into his skin through the fabric of his pants. 

“Well, if- if he were here, he’d have killed me the second I walked in the door.” Theon forced himself to look up, to look at his big sister with his whole face wet and red and gross. “H-he hated me before, and now- he was right, always right, I was always so weak, so weak, he’d kill me before letting people see me like this. H-he’d kill me before let- letting me soil the Greyjoy name.” 

"You're not soiling the name," she said furiously. "You're not weak. You've been hurt, that's all. You'll get better, you just need time."

"She's right," Robb piped up. "You need time, a little help maybe, but we're both here for you."

"Uncle Euron lives here now," Yara added, not looking happy about that fact. "But Dany and I can be together, and you— You're free of him, too. You don't have to worry about him anymore. And mom... She never would have recovered." She blinked back her own tears, biting her lip. "I hate to say it but she's better off, where she is. She's at peace, finally, with Maron and Rodrik."

He made a distressed sound, a weird sort of wail, quickly looking away. “She should’ve been with me, I-I was her boy, I was her baby boy...”

But why would she? Why would she want to be with him? He was weak, disgusting, vile and dirty. It was no wonder she lost her mind after his brothers died. She was left with one child, and one disgusting freak. How had she been so kind to him for so long? He was a freak, a worthless creature, he always had been. Ramsay had shown him that. Who would want a weak and worthless child? A burden, a stain on the family name? He whimpered, feeling himself start to tremble as he sobbed, trembling and shaking and wishing he was dead. 

“Weak, weak...” He whimpered to himself, quietly so neither Robb nor Yara could make out the words. “It rhymes with freak...”

"You still are," Yara said plaintively, "you always will be. Nothing can change that, not even— She loved you so much, Theon, right to the end."

“I need- I need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.” Theon stood abruptly and stumbled out of the room, hurrying to the first floor bathroom. He felt sick, so sick, he wanted to claw at his scars and peel at his skin. He closed the door, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His gut twisted painfully. He looked so ugly, he felt so ugly. He let out a loud sob, fumbling around to check the under the sink cabinet for something, anything, but it was just toilet paper. Yara must have kept all her things upstairs, or maybe she didn’t have razors at all- she didn’t exactly shave. He let himself fall to the floor, hands curled into fists resting on his thighs. 

"Theon," Robb said, knocking on the door. He waited a moment, listening, and couldn't hear any sort of sound. Was Theon okay? "Theon," he called, louder this time, knocking again. His heart was pounding in his chest. Theon could be in there crying, or hurting himself, or anything.

“I’m fine. I-I’m okay.” Theon called back, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his sobs. He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t okay. He felt sick, so sick, and he felt he might actually throw up. 

"Can you let me in?" Robb asked, hand resting on the knob. He doubted it was locked, but he wanted to give Theon to choice in the matter. "Please, Thee?"

“I-I- Wait- just- one minute-“ Theon managed, shuffling over to the toilet. He bent over the rim and threw up, bile burning his throat. Some of it splattered onto the seat. He’d barely eaten, there wasn’t much to come out, but he stayed there, dry-heaving and sobbing and clawing at his thighs. His mouth tasted sour, and as he looked at the spill on the seat, it reminded him of when Ramsay had fed him and he’d thrown up, and then been forced to swallow it all back down. He fell into a short fit of coughing, throat dry and burning, scooting back away from the toilet to curl himself up in the corner by the tub. 

"Theon!" Robb cried, rapping on the door again. Yara was approaching now, donning an anxious expression. "Thee, please! I can hear you in there-- you're sick, please let me in!" 

"Theon?" Yara called. "Come on, Theon."

“I-I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna- I made a mess, I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll clean it, don’t come in, I-I’ll do it, you don’t have to make me,” Theon rambled, staring at the door with wide eyes and then back at the vomit that spilt over the rim of the toilet. Master didn’t like it when he threw up, not at all. Master fed him gross things but he had to be grateful, at least his master even fed him, and it was so terribly rude of him to throw it up. And now he’d made a mess, and he was just staring at it instead of cleaning it up, and master would be so mad, so angry...

"I'm coming in, Theon," Yara said, and she pushed Robb aside and opened the door. For a moment, she halted in the doorway, looking at him and the 'mess', then she scoffed and grabbed a roll of paper towels from under the sink. "Scoot over, baby bro," she said, crouching beside him. She wiped clean the bit that had spilled and threw it away, and then flushed the toilet. "There you go. Mess is all gone."

He stared at her, as if in shock. “He- he wouldn’t like that, he wouldn’t, I should clean up my own mess. He’d be so angry, h-he hated when I made any sort of m-mess, he’s going to be so angry.” He felt dizzy, drunk on despair, and everything felt wrong. 

"He doesn't know!" Yara dismissed. "How would he? You're here, and he's probably fucking off at the damned Dreadfort. Who cares about him? You're sick, you don't need to worry about cleaning up your own puke. C'mon." She grabbed his arm and helped him up, letting him lean into her. "Do you need to lay down?"

He shook his head quickly, shifting his gaze down to the floor. “He knows, he’ll know, he- he finds out about everything.” He clung to her anyway, still shaking and crying but a bit calmer now than before. 

"Even if he does, so what? He can't hurt you anymore. Not with me here."

"What?" Robb asked. "You're coming home with us?"

"No," Yara said slowly, as though Robb was stupid. "He's come home. Haven't you, Thee? This is home."

 _Oh no, oh no, oh no,_ Theon thought as he looked back and forth from Robb to Yara. “I-I wasn’t moving back in here.” His voice was soft, quiet, as if he was scared to say anything at all. 

Yara paused. "Oh." The look on her face was one of embarrassment and anger; she had clearly gotten her hopes up and now they were crashing. "Okay." Robb bit his lip and met Theon's gaze. The situation had gone to painfully uncomfortable fast.

Theon felt guilt, horrible, crushing guilt. “I mean, I- I could move here, b-but my dog, and- and she’d miss the others- and- Yara, please don’t be mad. I can’t- I mean, I can, but- I- please- I’m sorry-“ He was panicking, torn between Robb and Yara, scared to hurt either of them. 

"It's fine," she said, "I shouldn't have assumed. Stark, do you wanna...?"

Robb nodded and moved closer to take Theon. He swayed where he stood, face pale and clammy, and Robb made the decision in an instant. He picked Theon up and held him bridal-style, carrying him back out to the living room and laying him down on the couch. He knelt beside the couch and adjusted the pillows under Theon's head, making sure he was comfortable.

“I don’t- I- I’m bad- I’m bad, I- I hurt everyone- I wanna go home, Robb, let me go home.” Theon pleaded, voice cracking and full of hurt. 

"Theon, please, I didn't mean--"

"If he wants to go home," Robb said, cutting Yara off with a sharp look. She looked desperately between them. "Then he will go home. Okay, Thee?"

“T-to my master. Please.” Tears continued to spill out of his eyes and he was digging his remaining nails into his thighs. “I-I need to go home. M-master will be angrier the longer I- the longer I stay away. I-I need to go back to my master. That’s where- that’s where I belong. Wherever he is. H-he- he said so.” 

If there was anything left of Robb's heart, it shattered. He swallowed hard and shook his head. "I can't let you do that. That's not home, Thee, that's prison. That's torture. He's not your master, remember?"

Yara stared at her brother, then at Robb, and at the floor before finally spinning on her heel and fleeing to the kitchen. That wasn't her brother, not anymore. She likely had lost her brother the day their father threw him out--no, the day their mother lost herself. That was the last the world had seen of the true Theon Greyjoy. This broken wreck was an empty shell, nothing more. As she thought the words, guilt settled in her gut, but she pushed it off. Regardless, that shell at least used to hold her brother, and the least she could do was try and restore it. Right now, though? She'd let Robb handle that.

“He’s my master, I-I’m his- bring me home, bring me back to my master a-and then I’ll be good, he’ll make me be good again, a-and I won’t- I won’t hurt anyway. Let him k-kill me, let him, I’m his. He- he knows what’s best for me. He does. He’s my master. I’m his. He told me never to forget it. He-he’ll come for me if I don’t go, then- then everyone gets h-hurt, just bring me back- or I- I can walk, I can walk back, I’ll- I’ll find it- or if you let me use your phone I can call him.” There was desperation in Theon’s tone, in his expression. He’d only caused hurt since he’d returned to the Stark house. They’d all had to care for him and worry about him and deal with him being bad and sensitive and stupid. It was best for him to go back to his master. 

"I will not!" Robb exclaimed. "I'm sorry Theon," he said, though he was very much the opposite, "but that is the one thing I refuse to do. You will have no contact with him, and you will not be going back to him. Your home isn't with him. It never was, and it never will be. That was your prison. A hellhole."

Theon sobbed loudly, practically a wail, sounding as if he was in terrible pain. “He’s gonna come for me, m-master will, he will, he’s never lost a hunt, h-he’s never lost a hunt and he won’t loss now. He’s gonna- he’s gonna come for me and everyone’s gonna get hurt, and it’s all my fault, a-all my fault just like Kyra and Tansy!” 

"It's not your fault, Thee." Robb wanted to tell him to stop saying that, but it was a moot point. "If he comes, he'll come, and we'll take care of it. But you never have to worry about him again. He won't hurt us." Robb brushed a loose wave of hair back from Theon's forehead and toyed with it, stroking his hair in a soothing manner.

“If- when- when he comes, he- he’ll take you too. I can’t watch him hurt you. I-I can’t. I need to go home, to my mas- to my master. I need to go to him.” Despite his weak arguing, he tilted his head into the touches, the stroking of his hair always calming him down. “I-I can’t watch him hurt you. I can’t watch myself hurt you.” 

"He won't hurt me. You won't hurt me," Robb said quietly. "The only thing that hurts me right now is seeing you like this, and knowing that I can't wave my hand and make you better. You can't go back to him, Thee."

Theon lowered his gaze, defeated, calmed by Robb’s gentle hand. “Fine then. Take me home with you.” 

"Do you want to go now?" he asked, still stroking his hair. The tresses were soft and almost silky under his fingers and his skin was clean, clear, yet Theon still called himself filthy. He nodded, and Robb lifted him again. They passed Yara in the doorway to the kitchen, Daenerys behind her sitting cross-legged at the table, and Yara stared hopelessly after them as they left. 

She hadn't meant for this, but here she was, losing him again. Theon didn't even look at her, and Robb shut the door behind them with an air of finality that rattled her. He wouldn't want to see her again, she knew, at least not anytime soon. There was nothing left for him here, not even the shell of a mother that only served to break his heart. Especially not his sister, who again and again tried to sway him home. His home had changed, she realized, and she wondered when exactly that was. Longer ago than when Balon had thrown him out; likely he had shifted his concept of home to the Starks, and now to Bolton. For Theon's sake, she hoped he righted himself soon. There was only so much more he could take, so much she herself could handle. She couldn't lose the last of her family, not now. Theon was dear to her, little though she showed it, and he may not even know. He may never know, nor care, and she was fine with that so long as he was safe. Robb Stark would keep him safe, safer than she ever could, so she turned her back on the closed door and moved on to her girlfriend, the last thing that could make her happy. She hoped Theon would do the same.


	63. Chapter 63

Whenever he went to the Stark house for dinner, Jon spent the whole day leading up to it worrying. Now, at least, Ygritte would be coming with him- but that didn’t make him feel any better about having to face Catelyn. He was also nervous to see Theon, though Ygritte was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement to meet Jon’s whole family and to see Theon once again. When Robb told Jon about Theon’s return, he’d wanted to see him right away, but Robb warned him to wait. 

He’d heard somewhat of Theon’s condition- his missing fingers and lost weight- but nothing could’ve prepared him for when Robb brought him upstairs and he saw Theon sitting on the bed. 

“Oh, Theon...” Jon whispered. Robb said he’d gotten better, and yet... his hair was shorter than Jon was used to seeing, and there was no trace at all of his old smile on his face. Theon, who never stopped smiling, who’s eyes were always bright and full of mischief, was looking at him with dull eyes that seemed to lack any spark at all. He had bags under his eyes, and it made sense, Robb had mentioned that Theon didn’t sleep very well anymore. Gaunt cheeks lacked their normal coloration- all of him was paler, really, and thinner, his clothes practically hanging off him. He couldn’t help his curiosity, looking at Theon’s hands were they rested on his thighs. 

He knew about the fingers, but it still shocked him. Theon’s face scrunched up with shame, self-loathing twisting in his gut as he took in the look on Jon’s face, seeing the disgust as directed at him. In reality, Jon was disgusted not at Theon, but at what had been done to him- at what that Bolton fucker had dared to do. 

“Thee...” Jon spoke the nickname softly, walking over to the bed and hesitating before sitting down beside him. “Hey, Thee.”

“Jon.” Theon mumbled, staring down at his lap to avoid looking at anyone. “R- Robb said you and Ygritte were coming.” 

"Yeah, we heard you were home and wanted to see you," Jon said. "Robb made us wait a little while..."

Ygritte sat on the other side of Theon, her face flushed with rage as she took in the state of Theon. Granted, she hadn't seen him for quite some time, but she knew him and knew how he was, and this was not it. She couldn't understand why Jon and Robb hadn't told her about what was happening sooner; she'd been under the impression he moved out and they were all upset about it, but he was with Ramsay Bolton. All sorts of stories had been told of Ramsay Bolton, and none of them were all too pleasant. 

She took Theon's hand and examined it with a sort of gentle touch she didn't often employ. "It looks like your fingernails are starting to grow back," she remarked.

He looked up at her, offering a weak smile. “Y-Yeah. It’s slow, b-but the nail bed has toughened up too, so- so it’s not as sensitive. I can actually use this hand without it hurting.” 

Queenie trotted in through the open door, stopping at Theon’s feet. She looked up and yipped, jumping at his legs until he picked her up. He carefully took his hand away from Ygritte, using it to run his fingers through his puppy’s thick fur. 

“See? I can pet her like this again, a-and it doesn’t hurt.” His smile grew a tiny bit more genuine as his pup settled on his lap. 

"I always forget how weeny she is!" Ygritte cooed, stroking Queenie's soft head. "And your other hand? How's that healing?" Jon looked on, dark eyes round and sad, as Theon showed her his left hand.

“It’s- I guess it’s better- it’s, uh, it’s all scabbed up, it doesn’t really hurt anymore except when I pick at it.” He continued petting his soft little puppy, her weight on his lap doing wonders to calm him down. He looked at her instead of at his mutilated hand. 

"You should see a doctor, you might be able to do something about it," Jon suggested. Ygritte caught Theon's almost imperceptible flinch, and reached around behind him to smack Jon on the shoulder. 

"You don't want to, do you Theon?" Ygritte took his hand. "That's okay. You don't have to, it is healing on its own." He should, but that was beside the point. Pressuring him wouldn't help the situation.

Theon looked at Ygritte, silently thanking her. “Y-yea- I think they’re healing fine on their own. Everything is. Sansa, she took really good care of me when I- when I first got back.” 

"Good," she said, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand.

"How have you been feeling?" Jon asked, brow furrowing with worry.

“Better.” Theon shrugged. “I might be able to go back to school soon. I- uh- I missed a lot of class, y’know, like two months worth when I was with ma- when I was with R-Ramsay. But Catelyn called the school a-and told them I had a lot of personal stuff going on, health a-and family issues. Both my parents- they both died-“ His expression turned from nervous to sad, “So I have an excuse. I-I think she may have talked to superintendent Tywin Lannister, told him I was in an abuse- abusive situation, so all my teachers can help me get caught up w-when I go back, and my absences won’t be counted against me.” 

"We'll help you, too," Jon vowed. "Anything you need, anything at all."

"Yeah. And I'll personally beat up anyone who has shit to say." Ygritte grinned, but she was dead serious. "You going back on Monday?"

“I think so. I’ve been eating regularly, and I’ve been able to move around whenever I want, so I’m walking normal again.” Queenie lifted her head, so he leaned down just a bit to kiss it, earning a few licks on the cheek in response. 

"And your—" Jon broke off, looking uncomfortable and a tad guilty. Ygritte gave him a sharp look. "I'm sure Robb's mentioned this, but do you have a plan for if you see Bolton in school?"

Theon tensed, giving Queenie another kiss. “They adjusted my schedule. All of my classes are with Robb now, so even if my m- even if Ramsay is in them, I have Robb, a-and I’m allowed to go to the nurse whenever I need, I don’t have to tell the teacher why.” He hadn’t wanted to press charges or even mention that there was an issue with him and Ramsay, so Catelyn hadn’t mentioned it either. 

"Okay, good." Jon visibly relaxed. "You have me in half of them too, and Ygritte in gym." He gave her a fond look. 

"You just needed a bit of time, that's all," Ygritte said, relieved. "You'll be all right soon enough."

“Yeah. I don’t- I don’t want to see him, but as long as he doesn’t talk to me I’ll be okay. And I have Robb.” Theon turned to smile a little bit at Robb, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

"You'll always have me," Robb said. He had been quiet until now, letting them talk. 

"Sweet," Ygritte said, grinning. She turned to Jon. "How come you don't say that stuff to me?"

"I do!" 

"Mmhm," she said, turning back to face Theon. "And if he does try to talk to you, all three of us will beat the hells out of him."

Theon swallowed hard, nodding. “I- I appreciate that, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’ll just make him mad, and he has the b-boys, and I don’t want the boys coming for any of you.” The fake smile was gone and there was legitimate fear in his expression when he spoke of them, his gaze moving from Robb to flicker around the room, as if the boys would magically appear at any second, summoned by their name. 

"Let them come," Ygritte said, cracking her knuckles. 

"Ygr--no," Jon sighed. "Not helping."

"Thee, we'll be fine." Robb caught his gaze as it flicked past him again, and held it for a long moment. Theon seemed to relax a bit. "It's you we're worried about."

"Yeah, man, we want you to be safe. And happy."

“Thanks.” He ran his fingers through Queenie’s fur, looking at Robb instead of anyone else. He wanted to be held. He wanted Robb to hold him. It seemed safer in Robb’s arms, warm and strong and never intending to hurt him. It was nice to see Jon and Ygritte, of course, but his nerves were still a bit on edge. There were things they knew and things they didn’t, and he didn’t want to slip up and have them realize any of the things he was keeping from them. 

The message was clear in Theon's eyes, and Robb stood at once. "Can you guys give us a minute?" he asked quietly. Jon and Ygritte both rose. 

"Of course," Jon said, nonplussed. They left, clicking the door shut behind them, and Robb sat beside Theon. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "Was it too much, too soon?"

“N-no, it’s okay, I’m glad to see them, I just...” He scooted closer to Robb, leaning against him, comforted by the familiar scent. “I’m afraid I’ll say something and they’ll know. A-all the stuff I don’t want them to know.” 

"They won't know until you want them to," Robb said soothingly, wrapping an arm around him. "Whatever you don't want them to know, I won't tell them and I'll stop you from slipping up, okay? They're understanding, they won't push you."

“I’m worried about going back to school.” Theon looked up at him, at those pretty blue eyes, his soft auburn curls. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I see him.” 

Robb leaned his forehead against Theon's and his eyes slipped shut. "You'll have me with you. Always. Okay? You don't have to worry about him, cause I'll be right there beside you."

“His eyes, Robb, I can- I can feel him looking at me, no matter if my back is turned or not. And he- I don’t know- if he tries to talk to me, I-I don’t know what I’ll do, I felt like I was with him forever. And I have to see everyone else in school, a-and I look different, I’m ugly and scarred and missing fingers, and my hair is shorter than ever and I’m too skinny and- and-“ He cut off, biting his lip to hold back tears. He could imagine it, the way people would look at him. It would be like how to boys looked at him, he imagined- amused and disgusted. 

"Your hair is growing back, and you're packing weight back on," he said. His mother had bought Theon meal supplements to help with that. Robb touched Theon's cheek, ghosting his fingers along the pale skin and feeling the warmth of him. "You're so beautiful, Thee, so strong... You'll be good as new in no time. If anybody tries to say anything to you, they'll have to go through me."

“Please never push me away again.” Theon murmured, moving slowly onto Robb’s lap, facing him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. He breathed in deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut. He never wanted to leave Robb again, never wanted to be away from him for so long again. 

Robb shook his head slowly, careful not to dislodge Theon. "Never," he swore. "I never should've, and I never will again. You're everything, Thee, I would never..."

“He hated you.” Theon murmured, breath hot against the skin of Robb’s neck. “He hated you so much. Thought I fucked you when I ran away,” He laughed weakly, sadly. “As if I could. As if I wanted to. As if he hadn’t t-torn me so badly b-back there that it hurt to walk.” 

"He's hated me since we were younger," Robb said. "It's..." He shook his head again. "He can't stand the idea of me having things he doesn't. He's never had perspective, he just uses and uses you until you can't handle anything else."

“Things.” Theon murmured, catching on the word. He was a thing Ramsay had owned for months. “I-I never thought he’d actually hunt me. He put so much time in, according to the boys, he- he kept me around longer than anyone else, and then hunted me b-because of one mistake.” He had nightmares about it almost every night, running through the woods- in his dreams he was often naked or without skin, and Ramsay was just as fast as his dogs, perhaps even faster. 

"He wanted you more than he wanted anything or anybody else." Robb pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "And people, even Boltons, work for what they truly want. He just... gave up. That mistake was a godsend, because it brought you home."

Theon snuggled in closer to him, soaking in the heat from his body. “Home.” He agreed, the corners of his lips quirking upward. “I missed sleeping laying down. I know it’s been- what, two weeks since the h- since I escaped? But laying down to sleep is still... it’s nice.” 

"You'll never have to sleep standing up again. You'll always have the biggest, comfiest bed with all the pillows and blankets it can hold." Robb leaned and tipped them sideways so they fell against the mattress. He still managed to keep Theon in his arms. "Just like this," he murmured, staring into Theon's wide eyes. "You'll never know pain or discomfort again, not if I can help it."

“Thank you.” Theon murmured, curling up against Robb, making himself smaller so he took up as little space as possible. Robb’s eyes were so pretty, so warm and full of affection without a hint of the trickery that Ramsay’s eyes had held. Both boys had blue eyes, but the blues were violently different. He saw love in one pair and sadistic glee in the other. One made him feel warm, the other made him feel a sharp cold. Robb was so much warmer, everything about him, from his eyes to the color of his hair to the pink of his lips. He lowered his gaze to Robb’s lips, then flickered it back up to his eyes. “C-can I?”

Robb hesitated, then nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to Theon's lips, anticipation gleaming in their depths. His hand slid down Theon's shoulders to the small of his back. 

"Only if you want," he breathed in response. Robb very much did, at least.

Theon ran his tongue over his lips, pausing a moment to think before leaning in and kissing Robb. It was soft, slow, so much different from the bruising way Ramsay had kissed him. 

Robb was scared to move too much, lest he scare Theon, but he couldn't stop himself from moving into him, moving his lips against Theon's. His eyes slid shut after a moment, testing the waters but still enjoying the feel of him, relishing his closeness.

Theon closed his eyes as well, body pressed to Robb’s as close as possible. He whimpered softly into the kiss, the softness so unfamiliar, but so pleasant. He felt good, warm, his nerves tingling pleasantly. 

Rolling onto his back, Robb ended up with Theon on top of him, hands on his chest and lips still pressed to his own. Out of sheer instinct, Robb's hands began to move down to Theon's hips, but he corrected himself and slid them back up to hold Theon's waist. He groaned softly against Theon's lips.

Theon was straddling him, his groin pressed against Robb’s, and he could feel himself growing hard at Robb’s kiss, at his gentle caress. He felt a rush of heat run through him, cock twitching at the feel of Robb’s hands on his waist, and then he pulled away. 

He looked down at Robb as if he were the most perfect thing he’d ever seen, both their faces flushed and lips puffy from kissing. “I- I can’t do more.” 

"That's okay," Robb said, breathless. He blinked, and it took some effort just to take his eyes off Theon for that split second. "That's perfectly all right." Neither one of them moved yet, though; Theon remained seated on Robb's lap as though it were the most comfortable thing. His hands still rested on Theon's waist.

“We should- we should go to dinner.” Theon said, though he made no attempts to move. Robb. It was Robb who’s lap he was sat upon, Robb who’d been kissing him- not Ramsay. It sent a tiny thrill through him. It was almost like rebelling, kissing him, going directly against what he knew his master would want. Ramsay would hate to know he was kissing Robb, he’d despise it, he’d take Theon’s fingers for it- but he couldn’t. Theon kissed Robb, and he wasn’t being hurt. He had been kissed and it was not accompanied by any sort of pain or discomfort. 

Robb let out a slow breath. "Yeah?" Neither did he make any sort of effort to move. If anything, he relaxed further underneath Theon. His hands stroked little circles on Theon's sides and he looked up at him, eyes roaming over every inch of his face, taking in every last freckle. This was his Theon.

“Yeah. I’m hungry.” Theon stated, something he hadn’t said in a long while. If he’d complained of hunger to Ramsay, he’d have been punished. He ate when his master decided he would, and he ate however much his master decided to give him- no more and no less. Even the past two weeks with the Starks, he didn’t complain at all or ask for food. He didn’t want to be a burden, an annoyance, he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. But he felt... normal, at that moment, sat atop Robb’s lap. 

Robb's hands came to a reluctant halt. "If you're hungry," he began, "I guess we should feed you, hm?" This was nice, though, a sort of peace they hadn't had in ages. He was loathe to destroy it.

“That would be awfully nice. And I’m sure Rickon is dying to see us.” Theon teased gently, smiling a little down at him. There was a bit of a gleam to his eye, a hint of a spark- something other than the dull emptiness that Ramsay had created. 

"I'm sure he is." Robb tilted his head. "And Jon and Ygritte, too." Finally, he sat up, not Theon remained still on his lap so their chests bumped. In this new proximity, Robb swallowed and glanced away, and back again. Theon was quiet, watching him, and Robb desperately wanted to kiss him again.

“We should go.” Theon repeated, but waited another few moments before finally getting off his his lap and standing up. He held out a hand for Robb to take. 

He took it gratefully and got up, but didn't let go of Theon's hand. Instead, he squeezed it and with his free hand, smoothed down Theon's rumpled hair. 

"Ready?" he asked, just to make sure.

Theon nodded with a tiny smile and they went downstairs to join the rest of the Starks. Rickon insisted on sitting next to Theon, babbling about Shaggydog and other little stories he had missed as Catelyn brought out the pan-seared mutton chops. They were perfectly cooked, each bite tasting absolutely heavenly. He was thankful for little Rickon’s blabbering, giving him reason not to talk, just nodding along as he ate. He caught Sansa’s eye every once in a while and saw her smiling warmly at him, and his heart felt full and pleasantly light in his chest. He was home.


	64. Chapter 64

Theon woke curled up against Robb’s side, head resting on his chest, a hand softly stroking his hair as he opened his eyes. He inhaled deeply, taking in Robb’s scent, eyes adjusting to the sunlight from the window. Waking up in a bed was still such a relief, as was waking up in the light of the morning as opposed to in overwhelming darkness in which he couldn’t even guess the time.

“Morning.” He murmured, tilting his head to look up at Robb.

"Good morning," Robb replied, voice rough with sleep. "It's Monday... You sure you're still up to it? Nobody will be upset if you don't want to."

“I’m gonna have to go at some point. Might as well get it over with.” He said with a sigh, moving to get off the bed and head over to Robb’s dresser. He’d moved some of his clothes over to Robb’s room, as he’d been sleeping there lately- too nervous to sleep in his room alone. He’d slept alone for long enough.

"I know what you should wear," Robb said. He lounged on his side, watching Theon. "Should be in the second drawer, there." He grinned as Theon rifled through and came up with the classic shirt, 'are you squidding me?' with a big squid emblazoned across the middle.

“You’re a dumbass.” Theon teased, but he was smiling as he took his shirt off, scarred back facing Robb, and pulled the squid one on. He then pulled on a pair of his old skinny jeans- which weren’t so skin tight anymore- and turned back to look at his best friend. “You need to get dressed, too.”

"I know." The tone had sobered quickly upon the sight of Theon's scars, and Robb had no problem now sliding out of bed and joining Theon at the dresser. Grey Wind was happy to take advantage of the vacated mattress, and spread his entire body out. Queenie nestled up against his chest and uttered a soft, content yip.

Theon walked over to sit on the edge of his bed and reached out to pet Queenie, who looked like a tiny little ball of fuzz next to Grey Wind’s massive body. “Can we go down for breakfast? I could kill for some pancakes.”

"Of course!" Robb threw on a navy t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and they went downstairs. His mother was finishing up a batch of chocolate chip pancakes, and a plate of blueberry pancakes already waited on the table next to a jug of orange juice.

Theon sat down, waiting for Robb to take some first before he took a bunch of chocolate chip pancakes onto his own plate and poured himself a glass of orange juice. His hand didn’t shake as he did so, which was an improvement.

“Theon!”

He looked up to see Rickon running into the room and around the table to jump up onto his lap and hug him. He did it every day, as if he was shocked to see Theon still there. Theon didn’t mind and he patted Rickon on the back. “Hey there, little dude.”

"Are you going to school today?" Rickon asked, jutting his lip out in a pout.

"He sure is, buddy," Robb said, ruffling Rickon's hair as he walked by to sit beside Theon. He set down a jug of maple syrup and sat down, stabbing his pancake. "I'm driving us, right Thee?"

“I’d like that, yes.” Theon nodded quickly, taking a bite of his pancakes. They were delicious, and he’d eaten so many he lost count by the time he finished. He turned to Robb, waiting for him to finish before standing up. Catelyn took their plates with a smile. Theon thanked her softly before going to get his backpack and leaving for the car.

The car was clean, freed of the empty Dragonade bottles in the backseat, and it almost seemed like a shell of a car without them. Despite this, he clearly hadn't been driving it as much. Robb looped around to the passenger side and opened the door for Theon.

"You ready?" he asked as Theon climbed in.

“Yeah. Just follow the speed limit.” He joked, but there was a flash of genuine worry across his expression.

"Of course!" Robb got behind the wheel, slinging his back into the backseat, and began to back out of the driveway. They had gotten a new van, one that came with a wheelchair ramp, so his mother no longer needed help getting Bran in. She was loading him up now, and waved as they drove off. "Did you want hot chocolate or anything?" he asked, knowing that Dunkin Davos's was up ahead.

“No, thank you.” Theon shook his head. “I’m good just going to school.”

"All right," he said, turning off North Street. "I'm going to park on the other side of the lot, okay? So you won't have to see him, and if we go straight to class then we shouldn't run into him in the hallway either."

“Thank you. I- I know it’s an inconvenience to you, so thank you.” He offered Robb a small smile, hugging the backpack that was sat on his own lap.

"I only care about keeping you safe." He looked over at Theon, returning a smile. "And happy. You're important, Thee."

His cheeks flushed and then they were parked and getting out, and he found himself walking into school for the first time in months. He didn’t touch Robb, but he was practically clinging to his side, and Jon and Ygritte met them near the entrance to walk with them. It was almost like a little protective shield, Robb on one side, Jon and Ygritte on the other. He almost laughed at the thought, put the urge disappeared at the thought of what he’d need to be shielded from. He took a deep, shaky breath. They had chemistry first period, he always liked chemistry, and Qyburn was nice enough.

The downside, of course, was that Ramsay was also in their chemistry class. Catelyn had sway, but not enough to move classes of other children besides her own. Though, Ramsay wasn't in the room yet, and Robb hoped it would stay that way.

They gathered at their lab table. Robb had been stuck as Ramsay Bolton's lab partner for those three months. Luckily enough, he only came in for first period a handful of times, and Robb had trudged through many labs singlehandedly. He kept this to himself, however, not wanting to make Theon nervous with thoughts of Ramsay joining them, and silently vowed that if that were to happen, he would not hesitate before throwing whatever acid they had at him.

"Look," he said, pushing the lab sheet towards him. "Ionic activity. Seems dull."

It turned out that Robb was right, it was extremely boring, and instead of doing the work, Theon spent the whole class looking nervously around at every little sound; startling whenever the door opened or closed, praying to the Drowned God that Ramsay would not walk in. Apparently his god listened, because they got through the period with no sign of the bastard. Their next class was safer, history with Professor Lannister- or, as he told his students during their first day of class, Tyrion, just Tyrion. It was common knowledge that he was the superintendent’s son, but he was nothing like the old man and was widely liked by the students. Theon took a seat next to Robb, pulling out a notebook and pencil.

Tyrion was a master in Westerosi history, and his lectures were always fascinating. He blended them discussions, and though Robb and Theon were more content to sit back and listen, it was just as engaging. All he needed to do was jot down some notes and pay attention, and he was golden. Several minutes in, Robb realized that Theon would need his notes in order to understand next week's quiz. On the other hand, Tyrion was very understanding, and he was sure that Theon could get extra time to complete it. Nonetheless, he marked a note down to go over his notes with Theon later, and then glanced over at Theon. He seemed to be paying attention, if not a bit lost, but the moment Robb laid eyes on him Theon swiveled in his chair and offered him an empty sort of grin, as though reassuring him that he was okay. Robb didn't quite buy it, but they both turned back to the front of the classroom without a word.

Theon was completely lost, but at least Tyrion was interesting- even if he had no clue what he was talking about. The next class was one Theon had always loved, health with Professor Martell- a lot of it was sex education. When they got to class, however, it appeared they were in the drug unit. Theon was disinterested, doodling on the edges of his notebook paper as the professor went on about the dangers and benefits of all types of drugs, and the impact they could have on a person’s life. He’d never even done any drugs other than weed, and as much as he enjoyed Martell’s lectures, he found himself zoning out, worrying about the next period.

English with Ramsay. He knew Ramsay was in that class, had sat with him for a while, and Theon was scared he’d show up. Scared he’d talk to him, or touch him. The worry on his face became somewhat obvious, at the very least, Robb was able to see it, and he looked at Robb with wide eyes as they transitioned between classes.

“What if he shows up?”

"I won't let him near you," Robb promised. "Jon's friend, Sam, sits on your right, right? And I sit on your left. We sit in the back, so the only place he could sit is in front of you. I won't let him."

They filed into the room, and Ramsay was indeed present, but seated on the other side of the room from where they sat. He looked up and stared, wide-eyed with shock, as they moved through the rows of desks and sat.

Theon made eye contact and his breathing stopped. He quickly looked away from Ramsay and back to Robb, panic in his eyes. Ramsay was across the room, yes, but he was still in it, and Theon could feel those eyes on him. He could feel them, and he could hear the silent command. Come to master. Something in him said to go, go to his master, kneel at his feet and beg for forgiveness. A larger part of him told him to not so much as look at Ramsay, and he listened to that. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to focus but failing miserably as Professor Baelish explained the assignment.

Robb reached out silently and took his hand, and held it even as Baelish moved through the rows and handed out the packets. With a raised brow, he surveyed them and moved on, clearly decided he didn't care enough to say anything.

Robb's gaze slid past Theon to meet Ramsay's, and there was a challenge in those icy eyes. Robb met it, held it, and broke it after a minute. Theon was home now, safe, and Ramsay was never getting him back.

Theon squeezed Robb’s hand tight, feeling an uncomfortable twist in his gut at how it felt to hold his hand with most of his pinkie and part of his ring finger missing. He stared down at the packet, starting to doodle on the edges so that he wouldn’t accidentally look back up at Ramsay. He was trembling, fear and anxiety running through his whole body, but he stayed silent and still.

"It's okay, Thee," Robb comforted, squeezing his hand. The door opened and Sam rushed in, clearly having just come from gym class. He was a minute or two late, but Baelish did nothing other than usher him to his seat.

"Hi, Theon," Sam greeted as he approached. His face was flushed from running, and he dropped his back to the floor and slid into his seat with a happy sigh. "How are you? I haven't seen you in a while."

“Hi Sam. I’m good.” Theon lied, offering him a small smile. Sam didn’t know a thing about Theon’s situation, did he? It was okay. The less people who knew, the better. A few people had given him odd looks in class and in the halls, but no one had said anything, and he was grateful.

"That's good to hear. You haven't missed much in here, don't worry. Just a couple of books." Sam said this as though it were no big deal, and looked down to leaf through his packet.

"I can tell you everything that happened in them," Robb assured him, leaning over. "Don't worry about it." He was, however, worried about Ramsay's gaze still burning into him.

Theon laughed weakly before looking back at Robb. “Thanks.” His fingers ached where there was nothing there to ache, and he felt those eyes, those ice cold eyes, and the scarred letters on his chest felt as if they were on fire.

The squeak of marker on whiteboard announced that Baelish was beginning the discussion, and conversation ceased. Personally, Robb found him a tad creepy; he knew Baelish had a thing for his mother, and Sansa had confided in him that more than once, Baelish had given her a rather lewd, appraising look. He didn't trust him, and he certainly didn't like him. That aside, he also wasn't the sort of teacher that you could mess around in class and get away with it.

The class passed reasonably well, besides Bolton's continued staring, and Robb escorted Theon to the cafeteria afterwards. He could still feel Bolton's eyes on him, several paces behind, and against himself, Robb felt his heart pounding. Theon was pressed against him, clearly terrified, and the entryway to the cafeteria could not have come soon enough. They joined Jon and Ygritte at their table, and Bolton skulked off to a far table across the room, alone.

Theon was so close to Robb that he was practically on his lap, hugging one of his arms. Ramsay was still looking at them, still, and it made Theon want to throw up. He didn’t want Ramsay looking at him. He wanted him to stop. He remembered Tansy in the woods. _”Master, please, make her stop looking at me!”_ and then _”You heard him. Make her stop."_

And then Luton gouging out her pretty blue eyes.

He shuddered and let out a tiny whimper, looking down at the table. He could feel his friends’ concerned gazes on him, but he didn’t look up.

The close proximity of him allowed for Robb to feel rather than sense his discomfort, and he adjusted himself to block Ramsay's gaze from reaching Theon. "Is that better?" he asked quietly, so only he could hear. "If he keeps staring, I can go say something."

“Please don’t.” Theon mumbled. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to talk to Ramsay, to give him any attention. It was bad enough that Ramsay was able to see how Theon was trembling, obviously affected by his presence.

"Okay. I won't," Robb said. "I won't do anything you don't want me to." From his back, he pulled baggie of pretzels and passed them to Theon. "It looks like they have pizza today," he remarked, glancing at the trays of kids walking by.

“Gross. School food is shit.” Theon wrinkled his nose, opening the bag and popping one into him mouth. The four of them talked a bit, and the rest of the lunch period went by uneventfully.

Robb walked Theon to the nurse’s office, making sure he got there safe before going to gym. Theon had been excused from the class for the time being- on account of his missing fingers and loss of physical strength- and given some reading and worksheets to do instead. Robb was there to walk with him at the end of the period too, guiding him through the halls during the transition to art class.

Theon hadn’t been in art before, but he’d heard of the teacher- Professor Mormont, who insisted the girls call him Jorah. He took a seat next to Robb at one of the tables. He felt immense relief as the bell rang and there was no sign of Ramsay- maybe he wasn’t in that class? But then, just moments later, his ex boyfriend was walking into the room and staring directly at them. Theon grabbed Robb’s hand and squeezed.

Ramsay glanced around, seeing no empty seats near Theon, and was forced to sit towards the front of the room, where he would have to exercise great effort to stare at him. Theon visibly relaxed, but Robb did not let go of his hand.

Jorah was walking amongst them, and paused for a length of time beside Daenerys' desk. He murmured something to her before moving on again.

Theon looked over at Dany- his sister’s girlfriend. How had he never seen her before? She was hard to miss, hair so white it was almost silver, and it was long. She was pretty, and as he looked at her he felt proud of Yara until he noticed Ramsay staring at him again and quickly turned back to Robb. “I don’t know how to do art.” He whispered.

"That's all right," Robb said. "Neither do I. He gives us the projects and we just kinda do them. It doesn't have to be good— he grades on effort and attention to the assignment, rather than whether or not it's a masterpiece."

“I don’t know what he wants us to do.” Theon replied, leaning against Robb, resting his head on his shoulder.

"Here," he said, and slid his paper towards Theon. "We have some options. You can either draw a self-portrait or a portrait of somebody else. He doesn't care what style. You can do abstract or realistic, even Picasso if you want."

“I can’t draw.” He groaned, but moved to sit up. He drew a big circle, two dots for eyes, and a frown before putting his pencil down. “There. It’s me.”

"I... don't think that's gonna work." Even as he said it, Robb was fighting back laughter. He could only imagine the look on Jorah's face if Theon handed that in.

“I’m missing a finger. He can’t expect much.” Theon retorted, although he was drawing with his right hand, which had all five fingers at their full length. Robb gave him a bit of a look and Theon sighed, lifting the pencil again to draw sloppy loops on the head. “There. I added some pizazz.”

"Here," Robb said, chuckling. He passed Theon his own piece, only half-completed but still very clearly a portrait of Theon.

“Cute, but mine is more accurate.” Theon was happy for the carefree joking around. Ramsay was obviously not, having turned around to glare, but Theon ignored his piercing gaze. Robb’s drawing really was good, half-done or not. “I will be handing in my masterpiece as it is.”

"If you want to. Hey, could you just look at me for a sec?" Theon turned and looked him straight in the face, and Robb studied him for a long minute. His eyes trailed over every spec of his face, every freckle and the curve of his lips and eyebrows, the definition of his cheekbones. "You are beautiful, Thee," he murmured, turning to his drawing and picking up his pencil.

Theon’s cheeks flushed. “I’m- I’m not. I was, but... sorry, sorry. Thank you.” Robb didn’t like when he was mean to himself, and anyway, the compliment made his heart flutter, made him feel warm. For so long we was only insulted, and every compliment had some sort of hidden meaning behind it. But Robb was just looking at him, close and taking in the details of his face, and he spoke with such raw honesty that he knew he meant it.

Robb sketched out Theon's eyes, glancing up every now and then to reference, and smiled as Theon's cheeks colored. "You should at least try," he said, shooting Theon's 'art' a sideways glance.

“I can’t believe you’d imply my work is not satisfactory.” He huffed, teasing. He didn’t try any more than his poor attempt, though, and Professor Mormont gave him a disapproving look. He didn’t mind. His next two classes were free of Ramsay, even if that did mean he had to deal with Walder Frey. He was a nightmare and just set them all to sewing pillows. It was a waste of time, really, and Theon sighed and put his poorly-sewn patches of fabric down on the table only a few minutes into class.

He turned to Robb. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

"I'll come with you," Robb said at once, because he couldn't bear the thought of something happening. Gods forbid he ran into Bolton, or somebody else who might harass him. He set aside his own pillow and they both stood. Frey gave them both a foul look.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Bathroom," Robb said curtly. He didn't know what it was about him, but he really hated Frey. The man gave off creepy murderer vibes.

“Both of you?”

Theon looked at the old man, furrowing his brows. Frey had never been considerate, so he decided it was best to just say nothing and walk out, Robb at his side.

“You don’t have to come in with me. I’ll be okay.” Theon assured him once they reached the bathroom door.

"All right," Robb said, and he leaned against the wall beside the door. Rather like a bodyguard, he thought, and chuckled. Theon went inside.

A minute or two passed, and Jon came meandering down the hallway.

"Hey!" he greeted.

"Hi," Jon said in turn, coming over to stand beside him. "Hiding from Frey?"

"With Theon," Robb replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom door. "I didn't want him to have to come alone. But yeah, ditching Frey too."

"Hm." Jon leaned against the wall next to him. "How is he?" Robb made a sort of face, and Jon nodded.

"Better than I anticipated. He just needs time."

"Yeah."

Just then, Theon's panicked voice could be heard filtering through the door. They both jolted, and Robb lunged for the knob.

* * *

 

Theon didn’t even have time to unbutton his pants before he locked eyes with a man standing at the sink, and he felt his breath stop as he froze in place.

Ramsay.

Of course. He hadn’t gone to the bathroom all day, and the one time he did, Ramsay was there, with those icy blue eyes trained on him. Theon forced himself to snap out of it, now visibly trembling, and made his way toward one of the stalls instead of a urinal.

Ramsay followed, and he was faster. He stopped in front of the stall, and of course Theon had picked the far one, next to the wall. He was effectively trapped.

"Are you trying to hide from me?" Ramsay asked quietly, danger in his voice.

Theon stared at him, wide eyed, back against the wall. “I- I-“ He stammered quietly. Yes. He was, he was trying to hide from him, he never wanted to see him again. He could say it, tell him to go away, he could spit the bastard’s face- Ramsay couldn’t hurt him here. And yet he couldn’t get himself to say a single word.

"'I— I—" Ramsay mocked. He punched the front wall of the stall, and it rattled with a sharp bang. "Spit it out, pup! Tell your master what you're doing. Tell your master why his miserable little bitch is sniveling and hiding with the Starks."

Theon jumped at the punch, staring at his master- no, at Ramsay- in terror. “I- I live with them, th-that’s my home. I’m n-not your bitch.” He felt sick to his stomach with fear and disgust at himself, disgust at the way part of him was saying to just give in, to go back to his kind, gentle, loving master...

"You're not?" Ramsay growled. "Then what's this—" He grabbed Theon's shirt, yanked it up to expose where his name had been carved. "Is this not my brand? Didn't I do that?"

“Don’t-!” Theon grabbed the hem of his shirt and tried to pull it back down, feeling tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. “That- That doesn’t mean I’m yours, I’m not.” He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

"You're certainly not the Wolf's," Ramsay scoffed. "You're mine, so long as I want you. You're lucky that I still do— I'm even willing to give you a second chance. What a kind master I am."

“Please, Rams, p-please leave me alone.” Theon whimpered, refusing to look at him. He’d gotten rid of Theon, he’d sent him away, he had no right to want him now.

"You can't call me that," Ramsay snarled. "I am your master, and you will address me as such. Pup." Ramsay grabbed him by the chin, forcing him up to look at him. He leaned in, dangerously close, almost like he was going to kiss Theon.

“Y-you got rid of me, you got rid of me, I- I’m not coming back. I’m not. I’m with Robb. I-I’m with the Starks. You’re not my m- you’re not my mas- you don’t own me!” He insisted, eyes flickering around to look for a way around him.

"Yes, I do," and Ramsay crashed his lips against Theon's. It wasn't sweet, it was sharp teeth and drawn blood and pain, masked with the cushion of soft lips. "Mine," he growled, pulling briefly away just enough for Theon to let out a hitched gasp, before diving back down and shoving him back, banging again against the stall wall. He attacked Theon's throat, biting down the line of it, with one choking hand wrapped around it.

Theon was about to cry out when Ramsay’s hand wrapped around his throat, stopping him from making any sound. Tears began to spill from his eyes, clawing at Ramsay’s hand and gasping desperately for breath, squirming against his hold. He tried to shake his head. No, no, no, this couldn’t- not again, he didn’t want it, he didn’t want to go back with Ramsay but he couldn’t even cry out for Robb to help.

"Why don't you show me what a good pup you are, and get down on your knees?" Ramsay pushed Theon down so he was face-to-zipper with Ramsay's jeans. "Good pup, such a good pup.. See? I knew you still had it in you. Now, why don't you go on and please your master? Master wants his pup to suck his dick... Wouldn't pup like that?"

“No- no, I don’t want to, I don’t-“ Tears streamed heavily down his cheeks. “Master, please, I don’t, I don’t-“ He watched as Ramsay reached down to unbutton his pants, to unzip them, and he panicked. Fuck not making a scene. He was terrified, trembling violently, he could feel those sharp blue eyes staring down at him.

“Robb! Robb, please, Robb!” Theon shouted, weakly shoving at Ramsay. “Robb!”


	65. Chapter 65

The door burst, slamming back against the wall with a heart-stopping bang, and it wasn't just Robb but Jon too who came running in. Theon was in a wrecked state, fighting against Ramsay's hold on him, and Ramsay stood over him with his pants undone and rage in his eyes. 

"Get the fuck off of him!" Robb shouted, lunging at Ramsay. The force of his weight toppled Ramsay over and the two of them crashed against the wall of the stall and to the floor. Jon went straight to Theon's side.

Theon curled in on himself in the corner, sobbing quietly, not looking up at Jon. He couldn’t. He was terrified, as if Ramsay would come back over and beat him, punish him. He knew Robb was fighting Ramsay but he was too shaken up to think about anything but shaking and crying and hoping his master wouldn’t hurt him again. “No, please no...” He mumbled, over and over. 

"I've got you," Jon soothed, taking Theon's hand. He wasn't the one who ought to be soothing Theon, he knew, but Robb was always the best fighter between them. 

Robb's fist planted itself in Ramsay's gut, and the bastard choked. With vengeance, he grabbed Robb by the shirt and threw him off, flipping them so he straddled Robb's chest, and he bashed his head against the tile floor so hard Robb saw white. 

"Oh, hells no—" Jon cried out. Scratch that, he was getting in there. He stood swiftly and seized the collar of Ramsay's shirt, yanking him off of Robb and throwing him back to the floor. 

"Bastard," Ramsay snarled, scrambling up. Robb got to his feet as well, holding his head. 

"Speak for yourself," Jon spat.

“Robb,” Theon whimpered, looking up once he heard the thunk. He saw Robb stand up and he saw Jon fighting Ramsay, but he couldn’t help. He was too scared to help, Ramsay would break him into pieces- literally. He hugged himself tighter, watching Jon and Ramsay, raising his voice. “M-master- Master, stop, don’t hurt them, please!” 

Ramsay stopped. They all stopped, and looked at Theon. Ramsay was the only one who seemed pleased. 

"That's it, pup. You know who you belong to. You always will. You're always mine." Ramsay began to back away, heading for the door. He didn't take his eyes off Theon.

Theon sobbed loudly, pathetically, and hid his face back against his knees. He could feel all their eyes on him. Ramsay’s words cut into him, hurt him worse than any of the bites or the choking. He felt so ashamed. He’d called Ramsay his master, he’d begged him... he just didn’t want Robb and Jon to get hurt for him, he didn’t- he shouldn’t have called for him. 

“I’m sorry,” He told them once he heard Ramsay was gone, the words jumbled by his sobs and muffled by the way he was hiding his face. “I shouldn’t have called, I’m sorry, he hurt you, I-I’m sorry.” 

"It's okay," Robb said, sitting heavily beside Theon. His head was pounding, but he didn't dare draw attention to it. Robb drew Theon into a hug, letting him lean bodily against him. "It's okay. He won't—" But he couldn't promise that. He didn't know. Ramsay could, and and probably would, try this again. He would just have to stop him. 

Jon crouched down on Theon's other side, choosing not to mention that they were sitting on a bathroom floor.

“He hurt you.” Theon sobbed, soothed only slightly by the warmth of Robb’s arms. “He- he pulled my shirt up, when I said he wasn’t his, he pointed out the- the-“ He cut off, glancing over to Jon, who knew nothing of the name carved into his skin. 

Jon immediately grew uncomfortable, and wasn't sure whether to leave or not. He looked away.

"We'll cover it up," Robb said quietly. "I'll call a tattoo parlor after school, okay? We'll get you the earliest appointment— Hells, I'll get one with you."

“His name, I don’t want his name on me anymore.” Theon sobbed, moving to hide his face against Robb’s shoulder. 

"I know. I'm sorry, Thee," Robb murmured, stroking his back. Jon silently stood and moved towards the door. 

"I'll make sure that nobody comes in, okay?" he said. They didn't answer besides a nod on Robb's part; Jon went outside, and resumed Robb's old post beside the door. 

"I'm so sorry, Thee. I should have come in with you."

“Not your fault. You didn’t know.” He sniffled, pressing closer to Robb. “He still wants me. He still wants me, that- that means he won’t leave me alone, he won’t! I don’t want to be his anymore, Robb. He was gonna make me- he was gonna- right here, in this stall, he was going to make me suck his cock. A-and I didn’t want to, I called for you because I didn’t want to, and now you’re hurt and it’s all my fault.” 

"I'll be fine," Robb said, shaking his head despite the throbbing ache. "Do you want to go home early? I can take you home, if you'd like."

“Yes please.” Theon looked up at him, eyes rimmed with red and tears still trailing down his cheeks. “I- I know how strong he is. When he hit your head on the floor, I know, I- I know. He’s strong, it hurts. You’re hurt.” 

"I'll be okay. I promise." Robb hugged him, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Let's go. You can go right out to the car, and I'll sign us out, okay? We just have to get our things from Frey's room."

“Will they let us leave? Just like that?” He didn’t want to let go of Robb, not for one second. “What if- What if he follows us? Ma-“ He cut himself off. “Ramsay?” 

"I'll run him over," Robb said, quite seriously. "And they won't stop us, not— Mom's explained that you have certain circumstances that you may need to leave. That's all they know. They won't stop us."

Theon nodded, silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be his. Don’t let him take me.” 

"You're not his. I won't, not again. I'd sooner die." Robb helped him up, still a little shaky on his feet, but he masked it easily. Theon didn't need to worry about him, too.

“You’re hurt.” Theon said again. “Don’t- don’t lie to me, Robb, you’re hurt. Do- do you need to see a doctor?” 

"I'll be okay, really." As though to prove it, Robb took a couple of steps, leading Theon to the door. He really was fine; who was he to complain about anything, when Theon had suffered at Ramsay's hands for so long?

“Call your mom,” Theon suggested. “Please- if your hurt, it’s not safe, driving and- and you might need help.” 

"No, she's at work. I'll ask Jon." It wasn't worth risk, Theon was right and Robb knew it, but he still hated to have to ask Jon. 

Jon, however, didn't mind at all. "Yeah, man, of course. I don't want you driving after he just cracked your head."

It went much easier than Theon expected, and soon they were in the back seat of Ygritte’s Jeep with Theon practically curled up on Robb’s lap for comfort. He was done crying, but he didn’t want to be away from him. He felt like a safety blanket, almost, and Theon was scared if he let go he would wake up again in Ramsay’s basement and it would all be a dream. 

The dogs were all happy to see them home early, and to see Jon- although Jon left rather soon to go back to school. Ygritte would drive the Jeep back to the Stark house later, and Jon would accompany her with Robb’s car so they could drop it off then go home. Theon worried about gas money, but didn’t say anything. 

“I’m sorry.” He said for the hundredth time as they went up the stairs. “Do you think- might you have a concussion?” 

"I don't know," Robb confessed. "Really, I should be all right." That being said, he didn't hesitate to collapse into bed. Theon lay beside him, and Queenie settled on Robb's chest, her nose and little paws stretched out towards Theon. Grey Wind curled on the rug, wagging his tail.

Theon patted Queenie fondly, offering her a little smile before looking back at Robb. “Does it hurt? Be honest.” 

"Yes," he admitted. "My head's pounding. But I'll be all right." He turned his head to face Theon, eyes beseeching. "What about you?"

“I’m okay. Nothing hurts. I mean- he bit at my throat and choked me a little, b-but that’s nothing, really.” 

Nothing. As if getting choked and forcefully kissed and nearly orally raped was ‘nothing’. He looked at Robb, Robb who he loved, who didn’t hurt him on purpose, not ever, and he felt a swell of anger against Ramsay. 

“He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t. I’m not his, Robb, I’m not. He told me to suck his dick, said I’d like it- I wouldn’t, I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to please him. He-he’s used me enough, m-my mouth a-and my ass, and he’s not doing it again!” His brows furrowed, and then his expression softened as he looked into Robb’s eyes. “I- I don’t want to make him feel good. I want to make you feel good.” 

"You do," Robb said. "Just having you with me makes me happy." He had a pretty good idea of what Theon was getting at, he'd be stupid not to get it, but surely not...

“Can- can I-“ Theon’s voice was soft, quiet. He slowly moved away from Robb, scooping Queenie up and ushering Grey Wind put into the hall. He gave Queenie a small smooch and quietly apologized before putting her in the hall as well and closing the door. 

He walked back to the bed and sat back down on it, next to Robb. “You’re hurt, and I- I want you to feel better.” 

"Yeah?" Robb sat up. His heart was stuttering in his chest; this was wrong, he knew it was wrong, Theon was still so recently free, he needed more time-- But then Theon leaned in and kissed him, and all those troubled thoughts fled his mind.

Theon sighed happily into the kiss, relieved when Robb kissed him back, and pulled away moments later to move down the bed. He knelt by Robb’s feet, reaching for the button of his pants. “Is this okay? Do you want this? I- I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want.” 

"I'll always want you, Thee," Robb said huskily. Theon undid his pants and he lifted his hips as Theon wiggled them down. "Do you want it, though?" he asked, because the thoughts were back and he had to make sure, had to know.

“Yes.” He answered quickly, easily, looking him in the eye. “I’m- I’m not his. I’m mine, and I want you, and you- you won’t force me or choke or- you won’t hurt me. Not on purpose. I- if I need to stop, I’ll tell you.” 

He slowly pulled off his boxers, his own cock twitching at the sight of Robb’s. He was shocked by the fact that a cock could look pretty, but somehow... he leaned in, down, slowly dragging his tongue up the underside of it. 

"Thee..." Robb groaned, leaning back against his pillow. He stared down at Theon in utter awe; the last, and only time, they had ever done anything, they were both more than a little tipsy. He hadn't been able to fully appreciate it then, but now... Theon had his lips on his cock, and he was so beautiful. Those wavy curls looked soft and inviting, and Robb grabbed a handful of them.

Theon took the head of his cock in his mouth, appreciating how quickly it was growing erect. He looked up at Robb, eyes soft but with a bit of a glimmer to them, sucking gently around the tip. The hands in his hair were still gentle, and it soothed Theon, reminded him that he was safe. 

He waited until Robb’s cock was fully erect to take any more in his mouth, and then he hollowed out his cheeks and took almost all of it at once. 

How was Theon so good? How was it that somebody who had been through so much could still care so deeply, still strive to make others happy? And how was he so damned good with his mouth? Robb toyed with Theon's hair, tossing his own head back as Theon took him in, and his mouth fell half-open. He looked so good like that, he felt so good...

Theon looked up at him, pulling off so that just the head remained in his mouth. He sucked at it for a minute, tongue toying with the slit, before pulling off. 

He wrapped a hand around the base of Robb’s cock, dragging his tongue back up the underside of his cock, licking up a bead of precome as he reached the tip. He pressed a playful little kiss to it before taking it in his mouth again, slowly taking inch by inch until he had the whole length in his mouth, Robb’s pubic hair tickling his nose. 

"So-- you're so good, Thee," he hissed, tugging lightly at his hair. "Why are you so good to me?" He made sure to stay still, knowing that any sudden movement on his part might trigger Theon, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He moaned softly around his cock, sucking and then swallowing around it, still staring up at Robb, into those pretty blue eyes. Robb, not Ramsay. And it was for pleasure, not some weird sort of power play- Robb didn’t get off on hurting him, didn’t grow hard at the sounds of Theon’s screaming. No, he was gentle, loving, and Theon knew Robb would stop if he asked him to. Robb wouldn’t fuck his throat until he passed out from a lack of oxygen. He brushed those thoughts of of his head. 

He was doing this because he wanted to, because he felt safe enough to, not because he was being forced- and that fact calmed him more than anything else. He moaned again. 

"Pretty," Robb said, gazing at him. Theon's eyes were widened and he was still fully dressed, too; Robb wanted to take those clothes right off him, undress him and really love him, but then Theon hollowed his cheeks and took him in down to the base, swallowing around his cock, and Robb twitched. He couldn't buck his hips, couldn't move, but he ran his fingers back through Theon's hair and with his other hand, grabbed a fistful of the sheets.

Theon’s cheeks flushed, heart fluttering and his own cock growing hard at the praise. Robb thought he was pretty. When Theon looked in the mirror, he hated what he saw, he hated the mess Ramsay had made of him- yet Robb still thought him beautiful. He sucked a little longer before pulling off, trailing small kisses down the length of his cock before moving down, cupping his balls in his hand and slowly stroking his tongue along his perineum.

Robb cock twitched again, and he clenched the sheets in his fist. "Fuck, Thee, you're... How are you so perfect?" he asked, shutting his eyes and drawing in a shuddering breath.

Theon whimpered, moving to press a kiss to Robb’s inner thigh, lips lingering on the soft skin. So soft, so smooth... he kissed again, and again, moving down so he could trail kisses all the way from just above his knee to the crease where his inner thigh met his groin. “‘m not... you are.” He murmured in reply to Robb’s earlier comment, kissing up to his belly, then up even further, pausing before licking at one of his nipples. 

Robb groaned softly, sliding his hand down the back of Theon's head, playing with the softer, finer hairs there. "Thee, let me kiss you. Please."

Theon just nodded and moved up, pressing his lips to Robb’s, enjoying how soft and warm and familiar they were. He let his eyes fall shut, hands roaming down Robb’s chest, memorizing the feel of every inch of his skin. 

"You are... everything to me..." he murmured between kisses. "You know that? You're my everything, my sweet, perfect Theon... I love you."

“Robb...” Theon whined, face flushing a darker red, his heart swelling in his chest. Sweet, perfect, loved... Robb loved him, he did, and he meant it, he’d always meant it. Robb was so kind, so gentle, so genuine. Theon felt like he could cry, and just closed his eyes and kissed him again so he didn’t. He felt overwhelmed, almost, but he loved the praise, would happily drown in it. He wasn’t Ramsay’s. He didn’t belong to him, or anyone, but he wanted to be Robb’s. He loved Robb.


	66. Chapter 66

"News," Skinner announced, pelting into Damon's room. "I have news."

Damon looked up from where he lay sprawled on the bed, a stupid sort of elegance to the pose. There was a question on his face, and Skinner went on.

"Ramsay just got home, and he's in a weirdly good mood. I think something happened with the kid."

“Eh, who cares about the kid. Come over here, big boy, and I’ll put you in an even better mood.” Damon gestured for him to come over to the bed, but stopped, huffing and sitting up when Skinner gave him a look. “Okay, fine, Ramsay. Should we go talk to him?”

"Yeah," Skinner said, as though this were the most obvious thing. "You know how he gets, when he's this happy. It's either about a new dog, or something about the kid. Either way, I want to know."

Damon sat up, being rather dramatic about it, throwing on a red silk robe and tying the ribbon around his waist. He’d been lounging around in just a skimpy pair of briefs- it was May, after all, and getting warmer. “Fine. Let’s go downstairs then.”

Downstairs they went, and Ramsay was chatting with, or rather to, Helicent in the kitchen Skinner and Damon exchanged looks.

"How was your day?" Skinner asked slowly. "Something exciting happened?

“Yeah, Rams. You look pretty happy.” Damon added, raising an eyebrow. One of the other dogs, Kyra, had been moping around lately, and plodded slowly over to Damon and Skinner. Damon gave her a pat on the head.

“Guess who I saw today?” Ramsay looked up at them with a twisted grin.

"The kid's back in school?" Skinner guessed. Ramsay's grin widened. "How did that go?"

"He thinks he's free," Ramsay scoffed. "Thinks he's not mine anymore."

"You'll have to fix that then," Skinner said, raising an eyebrow.

"He still called me master... To get me to stop beating his little Wolf's head into the ground."

Damon let out a laugh so loud it was practically a cackle. “You beat up his wolf, did you? Did that fucker attack you first?”

“No.” Ramsay made a bit of a face. “I had the pup all to myself, until he opened his bitch mouth and cried for help.”

"He cried for help?" Skinner echoed. "Seems like he doesn't want you near him, then."

"What he wants," Ramsay growled, looking very much the opposite of cheery, "doesn't matter. He's mine."

Damon ignored Skinner’s comment. “How’d you get him alone? Did he come crying to you? Beg for forgiveness, then chicken out?” There was a wicked glint in his eyes.

“He begged alright. Got down on his knees in front of me.”

“That little slut!” Damon looked thrilled.

"I was going to have him be a good little pet, but it was 'too soon' for him," he said this very mockingly, "and he summoned the Wolf and the bastard."

"And then you beat them up?" Skinner questioned wryly.

“The Wolf attacked me first.” Ramsay snapped, giving Skinner a dark look. “And-“

“Why don’t we just steal him back?” Damon interrupted, looking awfully eager. One, he was sick of Ramsay’s sulking, and two, it was fun having a human punching bag in the basement.

Ramsay looked thoughtful. "I'm sure that, given time, the pup will want to come home. He can only hide for so long."

"Right," Skinner drawled. "And when that doesn't pan out, we move to kidnap?"

“What is wrong with you?” Ramsay hissed, turning to Skinner with anger in his expression.

Damon placed a hand flat on Skinner’s back, as if to tell him to shut up.

"Hey, I'm just being realistic," he retorted, but backed down nonetheless. Ramsay shot him a filthy look and turned back to Helicent with a shake of his head.

"It's not kidnapping, anyways. It's bringing him home. Reclaiming a possession."

“Why don’t we go now?” Damon teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “I haven’t fucked in a wh-“ He looked at Skinner. “Okay, I haven’t done the fucking in a while. And I need to use my whip. Poor thing needs some flesh to cut into.”

"It can wait, and so can you. He should come on his own, soon enough. He knows I'm ready to accept him back, so the pup should come crawling back any time now."

Skinner smirked, as thought to say 'yeah, okay', but said nothing.

“Even if it wants to come back, the little wolfies might not let it.” Damon pointed out, making sure not to directly contradict Ramsay.

“He called me master. The Starks can’t stop him, not if he comes to me at school. He’s still mine- I own him. They stole my property.”

"And you'll steal it back," Skinner said. "Honestly, Rams, he's not worth it. You had your fun, you broke him, and sure he escaped the hunt, but so what? Let the Starks have your scraps. It's not like he'll do anything."

“He is mine.” Ramsay hissed, face reddening with anger. “Mine. I don’t want them having what is mine, and Theon is my pet, my disgusting little bitch, and I will have him back.”

Skinner wanted to tell him he was too fixated on this, too emotionally involved in a kid that was only ever supposed to be prey, fodder for the dogs, but he didn't. He wasn't suicidal, and years of experience with Ramsay had taught him exactly when to draw the line.

"We'll get him back," he assured.

“I want him back soon.” Ramsay snarled before turning and storming out of the room. He wished the two hadn’t talked to him, it made him feel weird- insecure. He wasn’t an insecure person. Seems like he doesn't want you near him, Skinner had said. Bullshit. Theon was his pet, his sweet, naughty puppy. Theon loved him, he wouldn’t stay away for long. By the time his head was clear enough to actually think, rage having dissipated, he realized he was in Theon’s basement room and hadn’t gone up to his own. He looked around, at the blood stained floor and the abandoned cuffs, and punched the wall in a rage. Theon was his. He would come back.

* * *

 

Robb woke to the sound of anguished wails. His eyes flew open—it had stopped, but his heart was still hammering away in his chest. After everything, they had taken a nap together (Theon was always tired, nowadays) and now they lay with their legs entangled in the sheets and their arms thrown over each other. Theon hadn't wanted Robb to do anything in turn, but he had wrung him dry until Robb simply didn't have it in him to get hard again.

Theon was now nuzzled into Robb's chest, and he realized that that spot on his shirt was suspiciously wet. As this thought dawned on him, Theon whimpered again, and a cry escaped him.

"Theon?" Robb called softly. "Thee, wake up. You're okay, I've got you."

Theon didn’t wake up, not yet, lost in his nightmares. Ramsay, it was Ramsay who haunted his dreams, his master’s voice and body and ice blue eyes.

He dreamt of the bathroom stall, but this time Robb was not there to help him. He dreamt of the aftermath, of retching up a vile mess of blood and bile and come, of the familiar pain in his throat and jaw. He’d dreamt of Robb finding him like that, with come and drool on his face and vomit on the floor, and of Robb being disgusted with him. And then Robb’s face twisted back into Ramsay’s, and he was back in the basement, trying to hold the broken pieces of himself together after the boys had assaulted him.

He was kicked at, scolded, degraded and called a whore. Then the boys were back, and with them was Robb. Robb, with his beautiful curls of auburn hair and pretty blue eyes full of the same disgust Ramsay had looked at him with. He wanted to sob, to wail and to scream, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to be taken on the floor, he tried to tell him, tried to mouth the words to make him understand, but Robb’s head fell from his neck as the first boy began thrusting into Theon. He cried silently and fought as the head bounced and rolled over to him, and then it was Jon Snow staring up at him, blinking, somehow alive. The mouth opened to laugh, and instead of a tongue there was a tentacle, slowly creeping out of the mouth, dark purple and slick with saliva. He screamed but nothing came out, another tentacle sprouting from Jon’s mouth, and then more- from his eyes and ears and nose, splitting the skin like paper until there was none left.

Pain, so much pain, being repeatedly shoved forward by whichever boy was behind him as those eight tentacles squirmed on the floor, the body of a squid unfurling from the inside of Jon’s skull, which cracked and fell apart around the wet, writhing, purple thing. The creature’s eyes gazed into his, human eyes, blue eyes, green eyes, eyes the color of the sea and yet lacking any emotion- eyes that belonged to his mother. Again he tried and failed to scream, and the pain in his rear suddenly vanished, the laughter of the seven men behind him stopping, the walls of the room spinning and melting and turning into the sea.

The squid with human eyes let out a disgusting sound that Theon could only imagine came from the seventh hell, its skin sizzling, hissing, steaming as saltwater filled the room. He could breath- how could he breath? He was surrounded by water, but breathing soon became the last of his worries. The thing grew as its flesh began to peel and crack, growing bigger and bigger until the purple skin was nearly translucent and he could see a human body within it. Those eyes still stared at him and the creature’s screech refused to end. One of the tentacles, its suction cups peeling, reached for Theon. He couldn’t move suddenly, couldn’t breath, but warm human hands were grabbing his own and pulling, pulling. Yara’s hands, he realized, calloused and strong yet still feminine.

Her voice was soft and sweet in his ear, calming him. “Little brother,” She murmured. “It will be okay, little brother. Don’t cry.”

He turned to look at her but she was shrinking, all of her, losing her grip on his hands as she morphed back into the girl she was at eleven years old when their brothers passed.

“Little Theon,” A new voice came, a soft voice, his mother’s. He turned back to look in front of him, watching as the stretched layer of purple flesh from the squid split and drifted away, freeing the body of his mother. She was dressed in a long white gown, hair long and pretty, looking as she did before the death of his brothers- except for her eyes. Her eyes were dead, and as she reached for him, he could see his own reflection in her face. He saw what Ramsay had turned him into, a face with dead eyes to match his mother’s, and he swam back desperately. He suddenly felt crushed under the weight of all the water, the water filling his lungs, and he tried to swim up, up up up and away from his mother and her dead eyes.

Then, suddenly, he couldn’t breath, his lungs burned and his body ached as salt flushed into each and every one of the wounds on his naked body. He needed to breath, needed to, and he could soon see the sun from beneath the water, a warped and glowing circle of pale yellow. He needed to breath, needed to reach the surface and fill his lungs.

“What is dead may never die!”

Two boys laughed, and Theon was faced with two cruel smiles when he finally surfaced, a hand grabbing hold of his hair and shoving him back under. He thrashed and fought until his head was lifted and he was looking at his older brothers once more. Their smiles were dark and twisted and their eyes reflected a sadist type of glee, but there were maggots crawling in and out of their skin, eating away at their flesh. He was at the rocky beach in Pyke where he spent most of his childhood, the smell of the sea filling his senses.

“What is dead may never die!” They repeated again, allowing him no peace and shoving him back under. He fought again, kicking and flailing, but when he was finally released again he was no longer at the beach in Pyke.

His head broke the surface of the water and only seconds later it all changed, the water being replaced by thick, fluffy snow, and he was able to stand and walk. There was blood in the snow, a path, and he could not stop his legs from leading him along it. He didn’t want to, he could smell the blood, the dark crimson. He still felt wet from the sea, but the water was flowing and warm- not water, blood. He realized it as he looked down at his body, blood streaming from every scar on his body, every little cut and lash reopened.

_”Are you all right, Theon? If you're having any problems with anything, let me know, okay? I mean it."_

His eyes went wide and he jerked his head up, seeing Ned Stark standing in front of him, head balancing precariously on his bloody stub of a neck.

_”Sew on the mismatched heads!”_

Ramsay’s voice, his master’s voice. Ned’s head tumbled from his shoulders, landing at Theon’s feet, body falling and sinking into the snow as Ramsay came out of the shadows, dragging two bodies behind him by the hair. One fist was full of brown hair, the other blonde.

_”Please help me. Please, please... I don't want to die."_

The blonde girl- Tansy- was climbing to her feet, facing Theon with empty, bleeding eye sockets, talking in between her loud sobs. Ramsay was grinning wildly at him. Kyra stood just moments later, her whole body bruised and bloody.

 _”I finally found a name for Number Nine,"_ Ramsay was hissing, stroking the girls’ hair as if they were dogs.

Kyra stared at him in silence, her pretty face ruined, swollen with bruises and wounds seeping blood. She seemed to lean into Ramsay’s touches, but did not break eye contact with Theon. He couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t make a sound. His master finally stopped petting the two and stepped forward, the girls both falling and shattering into a million pieces, like fragile glass ornaments. Ramsay’s hand caressed his cheek.

_"I am your master, and you will address me as such.”_

No, not anymore, not anymore, but Theon couldn’t say a thing as his master’s hands settled on his hips.

_”Mine,"_

Theon’s heart pounded, terror in every inch of his body, and he wanted to scream- why couldn’t he scream? Why? Those heavy hands moved up to his shoulders, pushing him down onto his knees in the snow.

_”Good pup, such a good pup.. See? I knew you still had it in you. Now, why don't you go on and please your master? Master wants his pup to suck his dick... Wouldn't pup like that?"_

No, Robb would come for him, Robb would- he had to, Robb said he’d protect him. He mouthed Robb’s name, as if in silent prayer. Please, please, please. He stared up at his master in horror, and then behind him as something monstrous approached.

A body, strong but pale and covered in blood, human head missing and a wolf head sewn sloppily on in its place.

_”Poor Robb... Killed so young, and so brutally! He must have died thinking you abandoned him."_

He didn’t, he wouldn’t, he loved Robb, he wouldn’t abandon him, never again.

_”Long live the Young Wolf!"_

When Ramsay tilted his head back to howl mockingly, the dead head of the wolf did as well.

Theon wished he were dead. He couldn’t look at this, and yet he was unable to look away. It couldn’t be real, not Robb, he couldn’t be dead- not again, Theon couldn’t handle it. Robb had promised to protect him, he’d promised, he couldn’t abandon him now. He went to scream, expecting silence, but it came out this time- a wretched sound.

“Robb! No- Robb, Robb, you promised! You promised!”

The abomination reached for him, a hand softly stroking his cheek...

He woke up.

He was covered in a thin layer of sweat and pressed up against Robb, his tears having long since soaked into his shirt. Theon took a deep, long breath. He could smell Robb, his sweat and his soap, and he looked up to make sure. It was real, Robb was real. He was alive and holding him. It was just a dream, a nightmare. He choked back a sob, pressing his face back against Robb’s chest.

“Please don’t die ever again, please Robb, I love you, please...”

Robb wrapped his arms around Theon's trembling body. "Shh... It's okay, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I love you too, Thee." He pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. "I'll never leave you. Never hurt you, ever again."

“I love you, I love you, I love you...” Theon babbled, clinging to Robb as if his life depended on it. “Don’t leave, please, I love you.”

"I'll never leave you," Robb murmured again. "What happened in your dream, Thee? Whatever it was... It won't happen. I swear it."

“Him- Ramsay, a-and there was you, and the boys, and Jon and Ned and my mom, and Yara, Maron, and Rodrik. He- you didn’t get into the bathroom in time, and then I was in the basement, and your head- Robb, your head...” He looked up at him, cupping his face in his hands. His pretty face, his kind and gentle face. “I like your head better attached to you.” He laughed weakly.

"Me too," Robb agreed, biting back a chuckle. He leaned into Theon's touch, eyes half-lidded. "I love you, Theon. Please, always remember that. I'll always love you, and I'll always do my best to protect you... and keep my head attached."


	67. Chapter 67

For likely the first time in her life, Yara Greyjoy was prepared to beg for forgiveness. She stood on the Stark's small front porch, gazing out over the front gardens. Catelyn's azaleas and hydrangeas were in full bloom, with other colorful flowers and plants that Yara did not know the names of interspersed. It was just a flower garden, she told herself, but it still pulled at long-buried memories and grief. It was the sort of garden her own mother would have kept, long ago. 

Her mother, of course, was why Yara was here. Or rather, her mother's grave. It was time, she felt, for Theon to visit. But first, of course, she would have to convince him to accompany her. Alone. 

She cast the doorbell a long glance, wondering if she should press it again, but just as she reached for the button, the door swung open. A young girl stood in the doorway, dark brown braids framing her sullen face.

"You're Theon's sister," the girl said, and she did not sound enthused. 

"Yes," Yara said, only slightly uncomfortable. "I'd like to see him."

She considered her for a long moment, and Yara was beginning to feel as thought she was about to be turned away. Then, the girl turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Theon! It's your sister!"

Theon took a couple of minutes, but he was downstairs in a reasonable time. He was wearing one of Robb’s sweaters, which was big on him, sleeves reaching past his hands, and one of his own old pairs of skinny jeans. They were a bit big, but stayed up on his hips well enough. 

“Yara?” Theon carefully stepped past Arya. “What are you doing here?” 

"I needed to see you." Yara cast a wary glance towards Arya; she didn't want her listening in, but she was also reluctant to shoo her off and risk angering Theon. "Can we speak in private?" she requested. "It's... important."

“Yeah, of course.” Theon glanced behind him to see Robb, who’d followed him downstairs. “We can go to my room. It’s just- up a little.” He led her up the stairs and down the hall to his room, which he hadn’t actually been in lately, and shut the door behind him. “What’s going on?” 

"I want to apologise for my behavior," she said, rather formally. "And, if you would like to, I want to take you to mom's grave. I think it would help you feel a bit of closure."

“Nothing to apologize for.” He looked at his sister, smiling a tiny bit. Mom’s grave. Mom was dead. “I- I’d love that. To see her. Her grave, I mean.” 

"Okay," Yara said, leaping up from the bed—she had only just sat a moment ago. "We could— Would you want to go now?"

“Yes, I would. Please. I’d love to.” He nodded quickly, before surging forward and wrapping his arms tightly around her. 

She held him tight for a minute, until she felt his arms relax and she let him go. Dany had coached her in the ways of physical affection and comfort; it had never been her forte. "Let's go then, little bro."

He stopped to let Robb know where they were going before they left, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek and promising to call from Yara’s phone if anything went wrong. He then followed her out to her truck, sitting in the passengers seat. She had music on, the same music their mother used to play when they were kids. He turned to offer her a small smile. 

"We had her buried at Harlaw Cemetery," Yara said, steering from the driveway. The truck was massive and Yara was not, so she leaned and peered to make sure she wasn't backing over any dogs. They had been out running about, enjoying the fair weather. "She's near Rodrik's and Maron's graves, and Dad too."

“I’ve never been to their graves.” Theon stated quietly, turning to look out the window instead. “Dad never brought me.”

"I won't force you to visit them," she said, fully aware of Theon's relationship to their late brothers. "But I'll show you them, if you want."

“I-I don’t. I have no good memories of them.” He admitted. No, Maron and Rodrik were all mean words and taunts and the memory of his broken arm, which had been done by Rodrik himself. 

"Okay." Yara was expecting that, and took it in stride. "Then we won't. Would you like to see dad's?" she asked, already having a hunch on the answer.

“No, please, just mom. Just mom. I don’t- I don’t care to see the others.” 

"Just mom, then," she said easily. They cruised past the Greyjoy house, and the cemetery was barely two miles up Moat Cailin Ave, on the left. Stone graves poked up through the grass, flowers dotting the graves here and there. Yara parked on the side of the road along the wrought iron fence.

He got out of the truck and followed her into the gates, along the winding dirt path between the graves. They stopped in front of a fresher grave, smooth grey marble, the name ‘Alannys Harlaw-Greyjoy’ carved into the stone. There were flowers there- he assumed they’d come from Yara- and the graves to either side of hers belonged to his brothers and father. He ignored those three, kneeling in front of his mother’s. 

“Mama...” He murmured, reaching out to trace the letters with his fingers.

"She loved you, so much Theon," Yara murmured, dropping to her knees beside Theon. "You do know that, don't you? You were her most precious, her baby boy."

Theon nodded slowly, tears welling in his eyes. “Her baby boy.” He repeated. “I-I loved her too. So much. She- she was my everything, I missed her so much... I miss her so much.” 

"She has a piece of you with her," she said, brushing a hand over the settled dirt and sprouting grass. "Forever."

He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “What do you mean?” 

"Mister Squid," she said, as thought it were obvious. "You gave him to her. She had him in the hospital, and was never without him, especially when she remembered. She would lay in her bed and just pet him, ratty as he was, because it was a piece of you. She was buried with him."

A tear dripped down his cheek, then another. “She- I should’ve been there. I should’ve been with her, when she remembered. It’s not fair. It’s not- it’s not fair.” 

"It's not your fault. She thought— I told her you were away. She didn't know, I didn't know, not the extent..." She broke off, looking pained. "I've never been there for you, not through all this."

“You... you did what you thought was best.” Theon said, voice soft, reaching out to rest his left hand atop her thigh. “And with- with Ramsay, you couldn’t have known.” 

Yara shook her head, hair falling loose around her face. "I... Me and Robb, we worked together with the police, he knew, but I... I don't know, I didn't take it seriously enough? I was angry, I felt betrayed, almost." She looked at him, utterly helpless. "I failed you."

He squeezed her thigh gently with his remaining fingers, leaning a bit against her. “You didn’t. You didn’t fail me. It- it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t Robb’s, I- it wasn’t even mine.” 

"It's Bolton's," she growled, face hard. "Every time I think about him, I want nothing more than to tear him to shreds for what he did to you." She took his hand, the need for vengeance fluttering in her gut as she clasped their hands, and the stub of his pinkie tucked pitifully around her own. "I'll cut every single one of his off. Then his toes. Then his filthy dick."

Theon flinched a little bit didn’t try to draw his hand away. “I don’t- I don’t want him hurt. I just want him away from me. He- he threatened to fucking neuter me once.” He laughed weakly, sadly, looking back down at the dirt of his mother’s grave. “We can’t- we can’t talk about this here. Not at mama’s grave.” 

"Yeah... This isn't the place." She let go of his hand, turning instead to brush specks of dirt off the stone. "I'm sorry you didn't get to see her."

“Me too.” He replied weakly, tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. “It’s been what, ten years? I haven’t gotten to speak to my mama in a decade. A decade. A-and now she’s dead, and I had a chance, a chance to see her, but I was locked up in a fucking basement.” 

"You couldn't help it," she breathed. A raven flew past overhead; Yara tipped her head back to watch it go. "Things happen, and Drowned God, it sucks. It really fucking sucks. But he'll get what's coming to him, and mom... She's not suffering anymore, at least."

“We didn’t deserve to lose our mom. It’s not fair.” He tilted his head, resting it on her shoulder. “We were kids, Yara. What did we do wrong?” 

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She grabbed a fistful of grass and scattered it, letting the breeze carry the little torn blades away. "The world just... Really, really fucking blows."

“I needed her. I- I turned out so fucked up, so fucking messed up, I-“ He made a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Why couldn’t we just have a normal family?”

She made a sound as though to reply, then broke off and let out a sigh instead. They were both silent for a moment. Then, "I don't know, Theon. I wish I did. Mom and dad were just... After Maron and Rodrik, nothing was the same. I wish they had never left."

“I was so happy when they left. I hated them. They were so mean, they always hurt me, but then they died- I didn’t want them to die, Yara, I swear, I didn’t.” He lifted his head and turned it to look at her. 

"I know you didn't," she whispered. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him against her. His head fell against her chest. "They were jealous of you," she went on, "because you were mom's favorite. They were always jealous of you. You were her baby boy," she added with a sad sort of laugh. "And they were reckless idiots. Got themselves killed." There was an insistent prickling sensation in her eyes; she blinked it away furiously and looked away. Had the clouds always been so interesting? "They died, trying to play the hero in a war they never should have taken part in. Trying to prove themselves, as what I don't know, but..."

“Dad loved them.” Balon had always loved his big brothers and hated him. “They were so mean, but I didn’t want them to die. Even that one time, when Rodrik broke my arm.” Yara’s arm felt strong around him, and he relaxed against her. 

"They were assholes, I'll give you that, but... They didn't deserve to die the way they did. Prisoners of war..." She glanced over at their headstones, manning empty graves for bodies never recovered. Guilt and fury twisted like fiery snakes in her gut. "We're alone now, Theon. Fuck Uncle Euron... it's just us. But you've found a new family, haven't you?" There was no malice in her voice, despite the glint of jealousy in her eyes.

“I don’t- I don’t like Uncle Euron.” Theon murmured, looking back at her. “I mean... I’m not really family, not to Mrs. Stark, at least, but the kids... they’re all like siblings to me. Except Robb and Jon, of course. They’re close to me in a different way. Jon as a friend, and Robb as... Robb.” 

"You love Robb," Yara said slyly, smirking at him. "I know you do. We've all known it, for a while. Dad did, he just... Hoped otherwise, I guess. Hoped you'd supress it." She looked skyward once more. "I wish I hadn't."

Theon’s face flushed. “I do. I do love him. I wish he could meet mama...” He sighed. “Did you ever tell dad? That you...that you like girls..?” 

"Never." She frowned. "I wonder how he would have reacted. Two sons dead, the other bisexual and disowned... Then his daughter...?" Yara gave a wry chuckle. "He might have died sooner, a heart attack. It was better for him not to know." Theon just looked at her, a gleam of sadness in his eyes. She went on, "But for me... Even if I had kept it secret, I wish I hadn't waited. I feel... Lighter? Happier?" She tipped her head to look at him. "Was it like that for you, too?"

“It made me realize how I felt about Robb. And that- he means everything to me, Yara. I love him. And... yeah. I felt lighter. It felt like a weight off my shoulders, something I’d been hiding so long, even from myself...” He reached out to trace the letters on the stone once again. “Mama would’ve been proud of us coming out.” 

"I know." She ran her fingers through the growing grass again. "She was perfect, wasn't she? She just loved us too much, that's all. So much her heart broke and she couldn't recover."

“Sometimes I wonder how dad ever managed to get her to marry him, and to have four kids with him. She was... she was so beautiful, and kind, and strong. And she was such a good singer. She loved us, she did, you’re right. She would’ve done anything for us. She was so strong, until they died, and... if there’s a heaven, she’s in it.” 

"She deserves it, more than anyone." Yara lay back in the grass, sighing up at the sky. "I miss her. I miss being young and carefree, when you were still a baby and Maron and Rodrik weren't little cunts. I don't know what happened to them, they just..."

“You complained that I was a noisy baby.” He teased gently, turning his head to look down at her. “I miss her, too. If she hadn’t- if our brothers hadn’t-“ He trailed off, shaking his head. “Everything could’ve been so different.” 

"It should have been," Yara agreed. "We— No matter what, our family didn't deserve any of this shit. You don't deserve anything that's happened to you."

“I love you, Yara.” His voice sounded raw and sad as he reached down to take hold of her hand. “I know we don’t say it much, but you’re my big sister and I love you.”

"Love you too," she said, squeezing his hand. "Little brother." It hit her then, really hit her, that they were the last ones left of their broken family. Theon had moved on already, though, moved on to the Starks, and Yara was left lost and floundering.

“Can- can we go back to the truck? I... I think I’m ready to talk to you. About Ramsay.” He looked back to his mothers grave. 

"Of course," she said, heart hammering away in her chest. She feared what she would hear. They stood, and Yara still clutched his hand, and left their mother's grave behind as they walked back through the rows of cold stone back to where the truck waited.

He whispered a final ‘I love you, mama’ as they walked away, looking back every few moments until they reached the truck. Once they got inside, he took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the dashboard. 

“I asked him to be my boyfriend on January fourteenth,” He began. “And- and it was perfect. He was so sweet, so caring, so kind... always so kind- our one month anniversary was on Valentine’s Day. It was perfect. We slept in together, went into school late, exchanged gifts and went out to dinner... and then, when- when we got back to his house, he kept kissing me, and touching me, a-and I just wanted to go to bed but no, he wouldn’t let me, and he forced me-“ His breath hitched in his throat, but he willed himself to calm down. It was only the start of the story, and nowhere near the worst thing Ramsay had done to him. “I couldn’t believe it.” 

"Oh, Theon... Why didn't you just leave him then?" Yara asked, already sick to her stomach with guilt and foreboding.

“I- I tried. I talked to Robb the next day, and when I went to go break up with Ramsay, he-“ The memory was dark, filthy, he could remember the aching pains and the dizziness and the desperation. “He picked me up, was so apologetic, and then the second we got inside, he- fuck- he threw me against the wall, and started yelling at me and hitting me, he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t let me go,”

_”Thought you could leave me, and go running back to your precious wolf? Thought he could protect you from the big, bad, Bolton bastard?"_

“He kept hitting me, and kissing me, and he wouldn’t listen- he threw me to the floor and I said the safeword, I said it, and he wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t stop-“ Theon’s breathing was growing less steady as he continued to speak, his heart pounding in his chest. 

_”Kraken, Ramsay, kraken! Stop it!”_

_"Kraken, kraken! Shut up, little squid."_

“I cried and I screamed and I was so bloody, bruised and bloody everywhere, and he laughed- he laughed at me. Then he took me to the basement and put this- this thick metal collar on me. His friend visited and made fun of me. And then he let me up, said he was sorry, he overreacted, he didn’t mean to hurt me, and I believed him again. I-I believed him again, after he’d raped me twice and beaten me senseless, I’m such an idiot,” His words cut off and he let out a tiny sob, squeezing his eyes shut to hold off any tears. 

"Drowned God, Theon, I'm—" Unable to restrain herself, Yara leaned across the center console and embraced him. "I can't believe this happened to you. God, Theon, I... I can't believe I wasn't there for you. I wanted to protect you."

“A cop came, and I lied, I said I was okay, but the second she left he sent his dog at me, she- she bit me four times, and he stitched it all messy and threw me in the basement again, banged my head against the pole over and over... I- I don’t remember much of what happened when I woke up, I remember his hands and it hurting down there and...” he wrapped his arms back around her, hugging tight as the tears began to seep out. “B-but he fed me after, and gave me blankets and pillows... then- later- he- he told me- Yara, do you remember Kyra? One of my old friends?” 

"Of course, you dated her... Dad wasn't very happy because she wasn't from a good family..." Comprehension dawned on Yara's face. "Theon... What did he do to her? Did he...?"

“They hunted Kyra. They hunted her, and he named- he named my favorite dog after her, his puppy, b-because she put up a good fight when they ra- when they raped her. Kyra. I don’t know how they got her, or- or why, I don’t know, but she’s dead, they raped her and killed her,” He sobbed, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. 

"God..." Yara leaned her head against his shoulder, and felt him do the same on her. "Oh, God... Theon, I don't even know what to say. I know there was a search for her a little while ago, but I didn't hear much about it besides that they never found her. Theon, you could... You could use this against him. Press charges, you have physical evidence of what he did, and her murder... He would be put away for life."

“I-I can’t, Yara, I can’t- I can’t tell people what he did, not strangers, lawyers a-and judges and... I just can’t. I can’t. I- I’m a coward. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.“

Yara desperately wanted to argue, but she held her tongue. It would do no good—not now, anyways. "Okay. That's your decision, Theon," she said instead. Even though now she knew, and did that make her an accessory to murder? Was she liable if she knew and didn't report? She would puzzle on that later, her brother came first. She was shit at comforting, though...

“After that- I don’t know how long, it was so dark down there, I-I never knew- but he let his friend whip me. Damon. I-I didn’t do anything bad, it wasn’t punishment, he just- he let him do it b-because he wanted to. It hurt so bad, Yara, h-he wouldn’t stop, I begged, I- I begged Ramsay, I told him I loved him and he got mad, he called me a liar a-and his other- his other friend- he sh-shut me up.” Theon didn’t want to explain what that statement meant, the memory of the taste of Yellow Dick making him shudder. 

"He had you for almost three months..." Yara bit her lip, hard, to keep from saying what else she wanted to say. He needed to press charges, Drowned God, he had to. "What else did he do, Theon?" she asked, nauseous, because she knew that he had to talk about it. No matter how horrible and guilty it made her feel. He had to talk about it, so she would stay quiet and listen.

“Three months...” Theon repeated, voice shaking as he continued to speak. “He started- after the whipping and all, he started letting me out, I ran away b-but I got scared. I ran to Robb and then called Ramsay to pick me up. He was mad, so mad, ch-chained me to the ceiling, made me wear a gag and a dog muzzle and ears-“ His face was flushing with shame. “He-he had this- this plug tail thing, and he forced it in me a-and it hurt, and then he- he-“ Theon pulled away from the embrace, averting his eyes as he lifted his shirt to show her his chest. 

Yara's jaw dropped; she reached with trembling fingers to trace the words, but stopped a hairsbreadth away from actually touching him. Fury set in her eyes. "I'm going to kill him," she burst out. "I'm— I— I'm gonna fucking tear him apart. How _dare _he mutilate my damn baby brother!" She punched the dash, bruising her knuckles. "Bastard! Fucking bastard!"__

__Theon flinched, eyes widening at the yelling. “Y-yara- please- please stop- please,” He waited for her to calm down, dropping his shirt to cover himself once more. Once she was as calm as she was gonna get, he began talking again. “He let the boys rape me. All of them. O-one after the other, two a-at a time. He acted disgusted with me.”_ _

__Yara looked horrified, but he kept going. He told her about the lies, about Robb and Sansa, about Queenie collar and Jon’s head and how he’d played him the voicemails and laughed as Theon realized he’d lost his mother. He told her how he’d lost each bit of skin, how he’d lost most of his pinkie and part of his ring finger, how he’d had two of his nails sloppily pried up from the skin. He told her about the hunt with Tansy and her pretty blue eyes. He told her how often Ramsay beat him, how often he raped him, and how, at the end, after all the pain- how Ramsay had hunted him._ _

__When he had finished, Yara spread her arms once again, tears spilling from her eyes. Theon leaned in and she felt him quivering as she held him. She didn't say anything, because what could she say? What could she say that would help, that would make any of this better? There was nothing. She wasn't there for him when he needed it most. No, she was busy being bitter and angry that he was gone, seemingly without a second thought about her or anyone else. Thinking on it... when had she ever been there for him? Had she ever stopped Maron and Rodrik from bullying him? Had she ever fought off the stereotypical school bullies? No. She hadn't. Now he was broken, and it was Robb Stark, not her, who was piecing him back together. She was here now, though, and she would make this time count. She had to._ _


	68. Chapter 68

Prom dress shopping. 

Theon hadn’t even realized that prom was coming up, but there they were in the Stark family van- him, Robb, Sansa, Margaery, and Catelyn. He’d never met Margaery before, but he liked her. She was sweet and pretty and smiled at Sansa in a way that showed she truly cared about her. It was cute, seeing the two of them in the bucket seats, holding hands across the space between them. Theon was nuzzled up against Robb in the back row of seats, half-asleep by the time they actually reached the mall. 

Sansa and Margaery got out first, hurrying ahead of Catelyn to get inside. They were going to Lord and Davos first, and Theon and Robb decided to take their time, holding hands and lagging behind the three women. 

"Excited?" Robb asked teasingly, taking in how Theon was dragging his feet. The poor guy looked utterly exhausted, but then again, he had been up all night. They both were— doing homework, and getting Theon caught up with his school work. "Sansa's a browser. This might take a bit."

“Listen, I love your sister like my own, but you might need to carry me ‘cause I’m fucking exhausted.” Theon leaned against him, looking up at him with pretty green eyes. 

"I can do that." Robb crouched down. "Climb on, Thee. Piggyback!"

“Mm, yes please.” Theon nodded eagerly, happy to climb up, wrapping his legs around Robb’s waist and draping his arms over his shoulders. He leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Yee haw.” 

"Neigh," Robb said monotonously. He straightened up and hurried after the women, Theon bouncing on his back. He clutched his legs to keep him steady. "Comfy up there?"

“Mhm...” Theon nodded, happily resting with his chest against Robb’s back. 

“Cute.” Margaery remarked with a smile once they caught up. She was holding Sansa’s hand in her own, both of them perfectly manicured. 

"You know it," Robb said with a big grin. "Are you guys going to match?"

"No," Sansa said, swinging her and Margaery's hands. "We're gonna do a color scheme sort of thing."

“Have either of you already gotten yours?” Theon asked, resting his chin atop Robb’s head. 

Margaery nodded, pulling out her phone with her free hand and turning it to show them a picture. The dress was gorgeous, strapless and grey, layer after layer of expensive fabric, an a-line type skirt. The whole thing was colored in silvery gold little flowers and vines, and she looked gorgeous in it. 

"You look amazing!" Robb praised. He adjusted his hold on Theon's legs to be more secure. Margaery beamed at him, and Sansa gave her a glowing look. 

"Doesn't she?"

“You really do.” Theon agreed, trying to keep his eyes open. He was tired, and being carried wasn’t helping keep him awake, and Robb was so warm and his hair was so soft...

Margaery let out a light, happy laugh and headed to the back of the store with Sansa, helping her look through the racks of dresses. 

Finding ugly dresses never failed to liven him up, so Robb carried Theon off to the clearance rack. "Hey Thee, this one looks like an old couch." He pulled it from the rack, showcasing it. "The material is horrible, too."

“Try it on!” Theon teased, reaching out to feel the weirdly thick material. “Why wouldn’t you want to look like an old couch?” 

"I can think of a lot of reasons, but..." Robb shrugged and seized another, equally odd-looking dress off the rack. "You have to, too."

“Hey, I want to be the blue couch. You can take the white couch.” Theon argued, eyeing the new dress Robb had picked up. 

"I had the blue one first, though," Robb protested, but there was no real intent behind. His eyes sparked with mirth. "You would look so pretty in white."

Theon’s cheeks flushed. “Oh shut up. Fine. I’ll try the white one.” He huffed dramatically, as if greatly annoyed. “Take us to the changing room, horsie.”

They went off to the fitting rooms, passing the girls on their way. Catelyn smiled to herself, browsing the racks, and Sansa and Margaery both giggled. There was no sense in taking two stalls, so Robb and Theon both went into one of the larger ones at the end of the row. 

"How about this," Robb said, letting Theon slide down off his back. "We try each of them on."

“I’ll do the white one first, since you insisted.” Theon stretched his arms before going to strip, piling his clothes up in a corner of the room. He picked up the white dress with a giggle, taking it off the hanger. It was a weirdly thick material, with some even thicker swirled embroidery in the same shade of white as the dress. He unzipped it and stepped in, pulling it up. “Robb, zip it for me please?”

"Sure." He grasped the little zipper and tugged it up, fingers brushing lightly up Theon's back. He pretended not to notice the way Theon shivered and glanced back at him over his shoulder. "There you go."

Theon turned, looking at the mirror, and his face flushed red. The chest area was a bit loose- he didn’t exactly have boobs to fill it, and the dress was strapless- but the waist was cinched and tight enough and held it all in place. The front of the dress stopped just above his knees, but the back was longer and stopped partway down his calves. It made him look feminine, and the reddening of his cheeks didn’t help. 

"You look beautiful," Robb said with a growing smirk. He looked him up and down appreciatively. "Shall we show the girls? You look too good for only me to see."

“Robb!” Theon whined, shifting at the growing discomfort between his legs at the way Robb was looking at him. He was suddenly very thankful for the skirt. “I’m not leaving this room in a dress!” 

"Guess I'll just have to enjoy this myself then, hm?" Robb knelt, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. His cock was stirring in his own pants, and he wanted to... "Can I touch you, Thee?"

Theon stepped back so he could lean against the wall, staring down at Robb. He looked so good, so pretty, and Theon felt his cock twitch under the skirt. “Yes. Please.” 

Robb ran his hands up Theon's legs, caressing his calves and sliding up his thighs. He pushed up the skirt of the dress and laid a series of kisses up Theon's inner thigh.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," Robb murmured, kissing his soft skin.

“Mm... yes, okay...” Theon nodded, staring down at him, eyes clouded with lust. Robb’s lips on him felt heavenly, so soft, sending shivers down his spine. His cock was already half-hard, creating a tent in his boxers. 

"Better keep quiet," he warned, "or else we'll get caught. What an awkward situation that would be." But he wasted no time in tugging down Theon's boxers, though it was a wrench to back up for even a second. Theon's cock was the prettiest thing, Robb thought, as he grasped it.

“Robb-“ Theon gasped, biting his lip to keep from groaning at the feeling of Robb’s fingers wrapping around his cock. Robb was so handsome, looking at him with those pretty blue eyes, not a hint of malice in them- only affection and desire. 

Robb grinned at him and bent to kiss the tip, stroking up his cock with a hand. His other hand braced on Theon's thigh. Theon twitched under his lips, and a delicious little sound escaped his lips. When was the last time anybody had paid him attention like this that was pure and gentle? Robb wanted to make up for that, tenfold.

Theon lifted one of his hands to cover his mouth, hiding the soft sounds he made as Robb’s hand stroked along the length of his cock. It felt good, so good. He hadn’t touched himself in months, and Ramsay had only touched him a rare few times- and the intent was never just to please. It was always part of some game. 

Theon had gotten hard fast, Robb noticed. He kissed it again before moving to wrap his lips around the head. His eyes slipped shut and he took him in. Screw teasing, screw going slow and dragging it out. He just wanted to make Theon feel good, because gods he deserved it.

“R-Robb- Robb-“ Theon whimpered, the sounds muffled by his hand. He tipped his head back against the wall and let his eyes fall shut. Precome dribbled from the tip of his cock, smearing onto Robb’s tongue, and Theon felt like he was floating, Robb’s lips around his cock sending waves of pleasure through his whole body. 

Robb groaned around him. His own cock was half-hard in his pants. Theon's was good in his mouth, a good length but he wasn't choking on it. Not yet. 

He took him in deeper, opening his throat and sucking and swallowing around him. The taste of him was somewhat bitter, somewhat salty, but Theon... He hadn't tasted him in far too long.

“Robb, I’m not- I can’t- I can’t last long...” Theon whimpered, already feeling embarrassingly close. Drowned God, his cock was all the way in Robb’s mouth, Robb was fucking swallowing around him, and he couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt this good. He really wouldn’t last long, not at all, not with the way so much pleasure was heating his body. 

Robb pulled off with a wet sound. "That's fine, Thee." He kissed the side of his cock, sliding gradually back up before taking him in again. One hand massaged his balls, coaxing him on.

“Robb,” Theon whimpered again, tipping his head forward to look down at him an awe. “Can you, can you look at me? I wanna see your eyes, p-please.” 

Robb did as asked, opening his eyes and staring up at him. Water spiked to his eyes as Theon bucked his hips unwittingly, but he took it in stride and moaned softly around his cock.

Theon looked back down into those pretty blue eyes. “R-Robb- you’re so handsome, I love you so much, I-I love you, fuck... fuck...” He covered his mouth again to muffle his moan as he came, hips jerking involuntarily, the pleasure rushing through his body almost making him black out. 

Robb's eyes fluttered shut again. Theon's pubic hair tickled his nose and he drank him down, the salty taste of him hitting the back of his tongue. He gave one last, deep motion and pulled off, his lips wet with Theon. He licked them clean, and pulled Theon's boxers back in place.

Theon panted softly, recovering for a moment before dropping down to his knees as well and kissing Robb, not at all minding that he could taste himself on his lips. 

"I love you," he murmured, kissing him deeply. The dress pooled around Theon, a rumpled mass of gaudy fabric. The thing was atrocious, but by the gods, Theon looked good in it.

“I love you too.” He repeated, reaching down to palm at Robb’s cock through his pants, moaning softly when he felt his bulge and how hard he was. 

"How about I put that dress on now, hm?" Robb hummed. Even so, he ground into Theon's hand, biting his lip at the delicious friction it caused.

“Yes please.” Theon nodded eagerly, pulling away from the kiss, a thin line of saliva connecting their lower lips. 

No time was wasted in stripping off Robb's clothes. He gave Theon a bit of a show, dropping his button-up shirt, with his pants following. Theon's eyes were hot, almost hungry on his naked chest as he turned and grabbed the dress off the hanger.

Theon whimpered Robb’s name softly, eyeing the bulge in his boxers, watching as he put on the dress. It didn’t quite fit right- Robb was too muscular and lacked curves- but it looked good all the same because, well, it was Robb. He inches closer to him, reaching out to touch the hem of the skirt. “... can I?” 

"Mm. Yeah," Robb said, leaning back against one of the mirrored walls. "Whatever you want." He was achingly hard, and Theon seemed to know it.

“So handsome...” Theon murmured, lifting the skirt up. He leaned in, mouthing at Robb’s cock through his boxers. The bulge was hard and warm, a damp spot were the head was. It felt like a bit of a stupid pornstar thing to do, but he liked it- sucking messily through the fabric, looking up with wide eyes as he did. 

Robb groaned, dropping a hand to hold Theon's head. "Thee..." he said huskily. He wanted more, but this... The feel of his mouth over his hard cock, through the fabric, was a different sort of sensation he hadn't...

A soft noise escaped him, and Theon's cheeks colored happily.

Theon went on like that for a few more moments before finally pulling Robb’s boxers down, making a greedy little sound at the sight of his cock, eagerly lapping up the precome that was oozing from the slit. He looked up at Robb, giving him a tiny little mischievous grin before opening his mouth and taking his cock all the way in with one swift movement. 

Robb's head tipped back against the wall mirror with a soft thunk, and his lips parted with pleasure. Theon echoed the sound, eyes taking in the sight of him hungrily. He hollowed out his cheeks, and then there was a knock on the door. 

"Boys," came Catelyn's voice. There was an odd infliction on it, as though... "Come see Sansa's dresses."

Theon pulled off reluctantly. “Ah- one minute! We got the zippers stuck!” And then, with a sly look on his face, he went in and deepthroated Robb once again. 

"Thee," he hissed, "we have to. It's—mmm, fuck—it's her prom dress. We can... ah... We can finish this later." 

His mother's shoes had moved away, he heard her go, but gods she knew, didn't she?

Theon moaned softly around his cock, beginning to quickly bob his head up and down, sucking at the same time. He lifted a hand to cup Robb’s balls, gently massaging them, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

"Thee, we're gonna get caught," he whispered, but did he really want him to stop? No. Never. Arousal spiked in his belly at the prospect; what would they do if a worker came knocking? 

Theon took him to the base and he let out an embarrassing sound, and he just knew it was loud, just knew that they could hear them.

Theon hummed around him, sending vibrations to Robb’s cock. He wanted to taste him, to make him come, and he was determined to accomplish that. 

"Robb!" Sansa's voice rang out, annoyed. "Theon! Are you coming?" 

"Yeah, hang on—" Robb choked out. That was that. They had to stop.

Theon huffed but pulled away, helping Robb out of his dress then asking for help to unzip his before getting dressed. He pouted, looking down at the bulge that was quite obvious in Robb’s jeans. “That’s not very well hidden.” He noted. 

Robb grit his teeth and grabbed the dresses on their hangers, holding them so that the fabric draped in just the right way to cover everything. He opened the door, and further up the row stood his mother, Margaery, and his sister.

All three of the girls looked a bit embarrassed and annoyed, and Theon felt guilty. He offered them a small apologetic smile. “Uhm. Sorry. Sansa, have you tried any on yet?” 

“We were waiting for you two.” Margaery’s lips quirked up into a grin. 

Robb was doing everything in his power to avoid his mother's eyes. Sansa gave them both a weak sort of glare, then spun on her heel and went into the dressing room. Robb exchanged a glance with Theon, and leaned against the wall to wait.

Theon’s face flushed and he pushed down the guilt that was swirling in his gut, standing at Robb’s side so he could hug one of his arms and lean against him. “Sorry.” He mumbled to him. 

"We'll pick it back up later," he murmured, quiet so only Theon could hear. His mother was still looking at them. She knew, of course, and had for a while... But now she _knew _, and somehow Robb couldn't even muster up the appropriate embarrassment.__

__Theon held on tighter to Robb’s arm, but his worried expression vanished when Sansa came out in the first of many dresses. She was gorgeous, wearing a vibrant orange ballgown that nearly matched the fiery color of her hair. He stared at her, jaw dropped._ _

__“This one she’s trying on just for fun.” Margaery told them, smiling brightly. “Sansa, dear, you look absolutely stunning.”_ _

__"You do!" Robb said, staring at her. His little sister, almost ready for prom. Jeez._ _

__Catelyn had Sansa turn and take a few steps in it. After another minute of compliments, Sansa was practically glowing, but ready to try on a new one._ _

__"The next one's even better!" she promised, before darting back into the room._ _

__Sansa tried on a lot of dresses._ _

__A lot._ _

__Theon was curious as to if there was a single dress in the store that she hadn’t tried on yet. Nonetheless, the trying on was reaching an end, and Sansa was at a standstill between two dresses. Both were gorgeous, long and sleek and flowing, short sleeves and a neckline that seemed to perfectly outline her bosom- not that Theon was really focusing on that, but all factors must be acknowledged when picking the perfect dress. One had fabric that seemed almost gold, covered in delicate pinkish-red embroidery of trees and flowers and other such things. The other was the color of the pages from an old book, a pretty brownish-white color covered in flowers in various muted shades of pink, yellow, and green._ _

__After having seen Margaery's, Robb was wholly in favor of the second. The colors would play a suitable color scheme, and the overall look of the whole dress was very Sansa-ish. Sansa nodded along to these points, and listened to support for the first dress, before disappearing back into the dressing room, this time with Margaery, to confer._ _

__Theon had also voted for the second dress, and was thrilled when Sansa came out wearing it and did a little spin and curtsy._ _

__“Here it is!” She exclaimed, positively beaming, and Theon surged forward to give her a hug before anyone else could._ _

__"Sans, you look so beautiful!" Robb cried. Margaery gave Sansa a shining look, holding her hand._ _

__"You do, sweetheart." Catelyn hugged her, and her eyes looked suspiciously wet. None of them commented on it._ _

__Once all of them had composed themselves and Sansa changed back into her own clothes, they went to check out and then piled back in the car. The ride back home was much more fun than the ride there- chatting, laughing, and joking around until Sansa and Margaery got dropped off at the Tyrell home and then Catelyn parked at the Stark house. Theon smiled at Robb, mumbling something to him then pouting up at him._ _

__Robb ended up carrying Theon inside._ _


	69. Chapter 69

Robb kicked the door to his room open, and shouldered it closed. He set Theon down to lay on the bed, and he bounced slightly on the mattress, blinking up at him expectantly. Robb climbed over him, bending down to kiss him, and felt Theon's hands come up and clutch at his shirt.

Theon kissed him back hungrily, pulling at his shirt to bring their bodies closer together. His skin felt hot and he wanted- wanted to be naked and sweating and in the throes of pleasure with Robb. He moaned softly against his lips, bringing a leg up to hook around his waist. 

Robb rolled his hips forward, against Theon's. The residual arousal had never gone away, only laid dormant until now, and he felt himself half-hard already. He chuckled, pulling back from the kiss for a moment to kiss and nip at Theon's jaw.

He moaned, fumbling to get Robb’s shirt off, annoyed that he had to stop kissing him to do it. His cock stirred to life at the friction and he bucked his hips, rolling them back up. 

He went for Robb’s pants next, fumbling to unbutton and unzip them and then to pull them down over his ass, taking his boxers with them. He eyed his cock hungrily once it was exposed, grinding up against it again. 

Robb kicked his pants to the floor and ran his hands down Theon's chest, down to the hem of his t-shirt, and he began to slide it up. Theon's belly was soft but scarred, marred with whip scars that made Robb sick with guilt. He wanted to cover them with evidence of pleasure instead, wanted it smattered with Theon's cum as he brought him to orgasm, over and over again. Theon lifted his arms so Robb could slide off the shirt, and it soon joined Robb's clothes in a pile on the floor. His hands went to the button of Theon's jeans.

Theon lifted his hips, helping Robb to slide off the rest of his clothes, before leaning in to eagerly kiss him again. He felt heated by the way Robb looked at him, at his body, as if there weren’t anything wrong with him. He looked at him like he wanted him, like he loved him. Theon moaned, sucking a bit at Robb’s lower lip before kissing him normally again. 

"I love you," Robb murmured between kisses. "I love you, so much." He reached down, grasped his hips, and pulled him flush against himself, their erections sliding together. "Do you want this?" he asked, mouthing at his throat.

“Y-yes- yes, please, I love you,” Theon panted, his cock already beginning to leak precome. 

Robb nipped at the skin of his throat, sucking a hickey, and ran his hands down Theon's sides, moving down his hips with around underneath him to cup his ass.

Theon tensed up immediately. 

He didn’t know why, he’d been fine before, he’d been okay with kisses and grinding and blowjobs, but the hands on his ass caused his heartbeat to speed and his breath the grow more labored- and not in a good way. It was just Robb, he told himself, just Robb, he wouldn’t hurt him. It would be okay. He tried to ignore the panic bubbling in his gut, leaning in to kiss again, but his lips were now trembling against Robb’s. 

He pulled back at once, getting off of Theon and scooting back across the bed. Theon lay, quivering, where he had left him. Robb stared at him, stared at his tensed muscles and widened eyes. It was quiet for a moment, then Robb reached forward again and took Theon's hand. 

"Thee... I don't think you're ready. It's okay. Don't... Don't do anything you're not comfortable with."

Theon squeezed his hand, making a small, sad sound and closing his eyes. He felt embarrassed, and it showed in the way his cheeks flushed pink. “I-I’m sorry- I can’t- I just can’t, not there, I-I’ve been torn so much, I can’t, I know you won’t, but,” He looked at Robb, sadness and guilt in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Robb studied his face. "I told you, it's okay. It's not your fault, Thee." After another moment, Robb tugged Theon up and he lay back, switching their positions. Visibly confused, he looked down at him, and Robb spread his legs.

“Oh.” Theon said softly, looking at Robb’s face and then back down between his spread legs. “Is this... are you sure? Have you ever done this before?” 

"No," he confessed. "But you?" He spread his legs a little wider. "I want you, in whatever way you want to have me."

“Fuck, Robb- fuck,” Theon cursed, and then, after a moment of just staring, he took his own fingers into his mouth and sucked. He didn’t bother to make a show of it, just getting them properly wet before reaching down and rubbing a slick finger against Robb’s hole. He was tight, Theon could already tell, and he took his time easing the first finger in. 

Robb shifted his hips. The intrusion wasn't uncomfortable, just... different. He had never so much as fingered himself before, and the other boy... Well, their sisters were dating, now, so he really shouldn't even be thinking of him like that anymore. But it had always been Robb who had topped. It was fitting, he felt, for Theon to be his first in that regard. There was no one else he would rather it be.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, or slow down, or anything. Okay?” Theon looked up at him with pleading eyes as he worked the first finger in up to the second knuckle- using his left hand, as the nails weren’t grown back yet on his right. He wiggled it around a bit, curled it, pulled it out then slowly pushed it back in. He kept going like that, working Robb open until he could fit in a second finger. 

At the second, it became a bit uncomfortable, but still not yet painful. Robb shifted again and lifted his hips off the bed to give Theon easier access. Theon's cock hung, hard and heavy, between his legs, and suddenly it struck Robb how much he wanted it.

Seeing Robb opening up around his fingers had truly gotten Theon back up to full hardness in no time, and he was staring at Robb as if he were the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. 

Which he was. 

His face was so pretty, his slightly parted lips and the way his eyes gleamed at he looked up, as he looked at Theon. He was opening up so well, loosening around his two fingers as he curled and scissored them, warming Robb up for a third. He pushed the two in deeper, curving them up and stroking, searching for his prostate. 

Robb's back arched as Theon's fingertips brushed over it. What...? That was...? He stared, breathless, at Theon, begging silently with his eyes for more. Gods, he needed more. Theon's fingers toyed at the spot, light and teasing, and Robb's head fell back against the mattress. Now that he knew just how...

"Gods, Thee..." he panted. "I want you."

“Not yet, baby, you’re not ready.” Theon murmured, then realized he had no third finger to put in to prep Robb. His ring finger still wasn’t healed, and there was no way he’d be able to use his thumb. Using his other hand would just feel odd for both of them... “Do you want me to use a condom?” He asked, now scissoring his fingers to try and loosen him up as much as possible. 

"No," Robb said, shaking his head as well. "You're clean. I'm clean. Just fuck me." Privately, he felt as though he were perfectly ready, but Theon would have more experience in the matter, wouldn't he? He trusted his judgement over his own, but he had spotted the problem as well. He looked up at Theon, meeting his anxious eyes, and slipped his own fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly.

“You need to be open more.” Theon swallowed hard, watching Robb suck on his fingers, those perfect plump lips wet from saliva. “Can you- fuck- Robb,” He withdrew his own fingers from inside him. 

"Mm." Robb slid his hand down the length of his body, past his aching cock, and to his hole. Theon's eyes were hot on his skin as he pushed them in, first one then a second, and he began to work in a third once he had readjusted.

Theon cursed under his breath, watching as Robb fingered himself, spread himself open for his cock. “Beautiful, so hot, fuck...” His eyes were wide, staring down at him in awe. 

Robb bit his lip and worked his fingers in deeper, as deep as they could go. He brushed his prostate and gave a sharp gasp and moan, and he looked back up at Theon.

Robb’s face was so beautiful when he moaned, Theon noted, the way his lashes fluttered and his lips parted, cheeks flushed pink. So pretty, so beautiful, so perfect. “Let- let me know when you’re ready.” 

Mimicking what he had felt Theon do, Robb stretched himself for another minute until he felt it adequate, and slipped his fingers from his hole. He felt empty, and his gaze dropped to Theon's cock, then flitted back up to his face. 

"I'm ready."

Theon nodded, spitting in his hand and slicking it over his cock, shrugging apologetically at the weird look Robb gave him. He lined his cock up with Robb’s hole, slick and prepped, and slowly began pushing in. 

His eyes went wide, mouth opening into an ‘O’ shape. He’d fucked girls before, yes, but he’d never fucked anyone in the ass. It was tight, impossibly so, like a vice around his cock. “Oh-oh fuck, Robb,” He managed, voice weak. He slowly pushed in, wiping his hand off on the duvet and taking hold of Robb’s hips. “Fuck- I’m just- fuck-“ Theon kept cursing, continuing to push in slowly, slowly, until he was fully buried inside of Robb, hips flush against his ass. 

It hurt. Robb whined helplessly. He was full, so full, and Theon was still looking down at him with utter adoration; every inch of Robb's skin felt warm with his gaze. Theon wasn't moving, just waiting, and Robb shifted himself. The movement caused a slight drag of Theon's cock inside him, and it hurt, but gods it felt good, too. He wrapped his legs around Theon's hips and looked up at him. 

"You can move."

Theon nodded, slowly beginning to move. He gasped, eyes almost rolling back with pleasure as he picked up a slow pace, just pushing in and out and in. He moved his hands from Robb’s hips to explore his body, softly trailing to his chest, one stopping to gently pinch his nipple. 

Robb let out a soft sound. The pain was minimal, because it was Theon that was in him. Gods, Theon was inside him, in as deep as he could go, just rolling his hips and trying to make Robb feel good. Robb loved him. He leaned up, into his touch, and ran his fingers through Theon's hair, pulling him down and kissing him.

“Robb,” Theon gasped against his lips, eyes half-lidded and full of love and lust. He thrusted into him, slow and deep, relishing the tight heat gripping his cock. It felt so good, so good, to be so close to Robb, so intimate. He continued to toy with his nipples with one hand, pinching and twisting and pulling gently. 

"I love you," he gasped, but his eyes were hooded and resolute, staring into Theon's. His cock lay hard against his stomach, dripping with precum already. "You can go faster, if you want. Fuck me."

Theon swallowed hard, nodding, and began to pick up the pace. He let out a soft cry, hips snapping, gradually speeding up the pace. “So- so tight, Robb, so tight, fuck... is this okay? Does- does it feel good for you, baby?” He didn’t want to hurt him, but Robb said to fuck him, to go faster. 

He took a deep breath, leaning in to kiss him, and sped up significantly. He groaned into the kiss, fucking him hard enough so that his body was pushed up the mattress with each thrust. 

"So good," Robb hissed, chasing Theon's lips as he pulled his head away. "Fuck—" He broke off in a loud moan, for Theon had thrust straight into his prostate, and pleasure sparked through him. "Th-there..."

“Fuck, baby, I love you, I love you,” Theon rambled, adjusting his position a bit so he had a better aim toward Robb’s prostate, knowing he was thrusting into the right spot when he gasped and writhed beneath him. 

As he stared down at him, he almost wanted to cry for how beautiful he was. He was perfect, so perfect, those kiss-swollen lips even fuller and pinker than usual, just begging to be kissed again, glistening wetly. And so Theon did, leaned down to kiss him passionately as he fucked him, pulling away to breathe and admire him between intense kisses. The way Robb’s face scrunched up with pleasure sent chills down Theon’s spine, thick lashes framing those pretty blue eyes as they rolled back. And then, his body... his perfect body, strong and smooth and muscular, his back arching so prettily, the way he was taking Theon’s cock... 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Theon’s voice cracked. “You don’t even- you don’t even know, Robb, fuck!” 

Robb bit his lip, rolling his head to the side and panting out harshly. His cock twitched against his belly, droplets of precum smearing over his skin, and his hands slipped from Theon to grasp at the sheets. He looked blearily at Theon, holding his gaze for a long moment before his eyes slipped shut again as Theon thrust against his prostate again, and another cry burst from his lips.

"Fuck!" he moaned. "Thee.... Gods, I--mm! I love you, I love you..."

“I-I can’t- not much longer, I’m so close-“ Theon panted. Months of harsh treatment and pain had really fucked up his endurance, as he’d learned from the dressing room prologue, and he was embarrassed by how quickly he was brought close to the edge. “You’re just so- so fucking pretty, and- ah, fuck- so fucking tight...” 

Robb offered a hazy grin. "Want you to come in me, Thee," he breathed. He thrust his own hips back against Theon's, taking him in deep, and clenched around him. He could feel Theon's cock twitch within him, and it was strangely intimate.

“Love you,” Theon gasped, his thrusts becoming harder and faster as he reached his peak, and then slowing to a stop as he came. It felt so good, white-hot bliss that sent stars dancing in his vision. “R-Robb, Robb, fuck, I love you, fuck!” He ground his hips, grinding his cock inside him, twitching and pulsing and spurting come. His grip on Robb’s hips had tightened, breathing coming in soft pants. 

Robb took in a shaky breath. He was full, so full, with Theon and his softening cock, his cum, inside him. His own cock was aching and he rolled his hips, drawing a soft sound from Theon. He looked at him desperately, his hands inching towards his poor cock, throbbing for relief.

“Just wait baby, please?” Theon gently pushed Robb’s hands away before carefully pulling out, wide eyes staring at Robb’s hole, pink and open and leaking his come. He then looked at Robb’s cock, so hard and flushed so darkly, and moved down so he could lick the precome off the tip. 

“Tell me if you don’t like it. What I’m about to do. Please.” Theon looked up at his pretty face one more time before moving down further, lapping up the come that was beginning to leak out of Robb’s hole. 

Robb gasped, grabbing at the sheets again. Gods, what else had he been missing out on? He had done this on Theon, and the one before him, but never... Oh. Theon's tongue was dipping inside him now, and it drew a startled little noise from him. 

"Thee..." he breathed. "Gods... you're perfect..." His only complaint was that he couldn't see Theon's face like that, hidden where it was, only the wavy strands of his hair.

Theon moaned softly at the praise. He’d never used his mouth on anyone like this, not even Ramsay- although Ramsay had never asked him to, thank the gods- but the way he could feel Robb’s walls twitching around his tongue as he pushed and wriggled it inside was beyond amazing. He didn’t mind the taste of his own come, spilling out into his mouth as he opened Robb up with his tongue. This was Robb, all Robb- now the first man he ever fucked, and the first man he ever rimmed. He wish Robb could’ve been the one to take his virginity, not Ramsay, but... he pushed the thought away. 

He kept going, licking and prodding his tongue in and against Robb’s tight little hole, enjoying the way he writhed and moaned on the mattress. He kept going until he’d swallowed practically all his own seed, giving his hole one last playful kiss before moving up. He softly cupped Robb’s balls in his hand, teasingly kissing them before moving to his cock, dragging his tongue all the way up the shaft, lapping up the precome that had been oozing from the slit. 

Robb tossed his head back against the mattress, huffing out a sharp breath. "Thee..." he moaned. "You're— I'm not gonna..." Gods, he wasn't going to last long like this. He could already feel the heat coiling in his lower stomach, but he wanted to stave it off, wanted more of this sweet pleasure Theon was giving him. He half-thrust his hips up, before he remembered and forced himself to still, but Theon wasn't deterred.

Theon took the head into his mouth, sucking gently, wrapping his hand around the base to stroke what wasn’t in his mouth. He pulled off with a wet ‘pop’ a few moments later, feeling Robb’s cock twitch. “Come on, baby. Come for me. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Robb, want you to come all over my face...”

Theon coaxed, and so he did, coming in spurts of white over the pale skin of Theon's face, over his lips and cheek and chin. Lips parted, Robb panted. His head was spinning, seeing white.

Robb was gorgeous when he came. Theon didn’t even know it was possible to look so good while orgasming. Even with his brows furrowed and his face scrunched up, he was gorgeous. The way his back arched, the way his eyes rolled back, his lips parted as he moaned. He could stare at that face forever, looking at that gorgeous sight as Robb’s come, hot and wet, splattered onto his face. Some landed in Theon’s mouth, and he swallowed it. 

He waited a moment for Robb to come down from his orgasm a bit, making sure those pretty blue eyes were on him, watching those flushed cheeks and those plump lips parted as he panted to catch his breath, Theon slowly licked the come off lips, taking his time, savoring it, letting Robb see it collected on his tongue before he swallowed. He swiped up some from his cheek with two fingers from his left hand and took them into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

Robb groaned at the sight, eyes heavy lidded. He reached for Theon, pulling him down and kissing him hard. "I love you," he said for the billionth time, but he would never get tired of it. He could never get tired of telling Theon exactly how he felt about him.

“I love you too.” Theon replied, pulling away from the kiss with a soft laugh before leaning in to kiss him again, and again, and again. “I’m never leaving you again, Robb. I love you so much. I can’t- I can’t imagine losing you. You’re everything to me.” He stared at him, eyes full of admiration and affection. “I love you.”


	70. Chapter 70

Theon felt... genuinely happy. 

It was a Tuesday, and a sunny one at that, and everything outside was warm and bright and green and smelled of spring. It seemed everyone was happy in the Stark house that morning, really. Sansa was so excited for prom, Arya was finally getting her fencing sword fixed, Bran was chatting nonstop about some weird new kid he met at school who was apparently ‘psychic,’ and Rickon was just happy because there were chocolate chip pancakes. Catelyn was happy that her children were happy. And Robb and Theon were happy to wake up safe in each other’s arms in the morning. 

Theon’s clothes were starting to fit again, having been home for a little over three weeks now, and his face was looking less gaunt. His eyes were the biggest differences. They’d gone dead and dull by the time Ramsay had hunted him, but they’d begun brightening again, and Theon no longer wanted to run whenever he saw his own reflection. Robb was right, he was getting better, and he could see the way he smiled at him brighter and brighter each day, he could see pride in those bright blue eyes. 

He was still going to the nurse for gym, though, not confident enough to actually participate in the class- especially not with Ramsay. Physical activity meant ‘accidents’ could very easily happen, and it wasn’t worth the risk. He wrote out papers during those periods in the nurses office. 

One habit hadn’t gone away, though. With Ramsay, he’d had to teach himself to pee as infrequently as possible. One of the boys would let him down maybe once or twice a day to relieve himself, and he’d grown used to holding it until he absolutely couldn’t anymore. It was harder now that he was actually eating and drinking normally, and he had to remind himself that he was allowed to get up and go to the bathroom any time he wanted or needed. And now was one of those times. 

He set down his pencil, walking up to Nurse Aemon’s main desk. There was someone else in the nurse office bathroom who seemed to be vomiting out their guts, so he took a hall pass and went to the nearest bathroom. The halls were empty and quiet, sunshine streaming in the windows, and he felt calm and relaxed. He had no trouble in the bathroom either- one of the stalls was occupied, but it didn’t affect him, so he peed and went to the sink to wash his hands. He didn’t even hear the toilet flush, didn’t even realize someone was standing behind him until he stood up and saw those ice cold eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 

"Hello, pup," Ramsay greeted, quite amicably. However, he was clever and imposing enough to station himself between Theon and the door, so the only method of escape was the impossibility of dodging around him. "I was starting to think I would never get you alone again."

Theon’s breath caught in his throat. No, no, not now, did the gods really hate him that much? The one period when he wasn’t with Robb, and of all the fucking bathrooms in the school, he chose the one with Ramsay in it. “L-leave me alone.” He stammered. 

"But why?" Ramsay pressed. He took a step towards him, crowding him back against the cold porcelain of the sink. "Your master can do as he wishes, can't he?"

Theon stared back at him through his reflection in the mirror, trying to look angry instead of scared, but the way he was trembling gave it away. “You’re not my m-master.” 

"Aren't I?" Ramsay murmured. He made no move to touch Theon, no move to grab him, but just the proximity of him was enough to intimidate. He tilted his head and studied Theon. "Oh, I see," he went on, dangerously soft. "You've taken a new master. The stench of wolf is all over you."

“Robb’s not- he’s not my master either. I-I don’t have a master. I’m not a pet.” He looked down at the sink, avoiding Ramsay’s piercing gaze. 

"No. He lets you think that, doesn't he? It is more fun that way." Ramsay considered him, a cruel gleam in his eyes. "He bends you over and breeds you like the pathetic little bitch you are, doesn't he?" With a cold laugh, Ramsay finally touched him, brushing a hand over Theon's belly. "When can we expect the puppies?"

Theon flinched at the touch, his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red. “H-he doesn’t- he hasn’t- he listens when I say no! A-and I’m not a dog!” 

"But you wouldn't say no to him, would you? Not your precious wolf," he sneered. He slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out his phone, showing Theon a picture. It was Theon himself, crouched on the basement floor, the heavy metal collar glinting on his neck, chain dragging, with Theon's ears flopping forward over his lank hair, and the tail hung limply between his legs. "Would you say that's a dog? Sure looks like a dog to me."

He shuddered, face reddening even more, disgust and shame twisting in his gut. He looked... terrible. Like an abused dog. Ramsay was right. “That-that’s not... you took pictures?” His voice softened with worry. “You- I didn’t know you took pictures.” 

"Of course I took pictures," Ramsay breathed. "For pleasure, of course, but insurance too. Evidence... in case you ever decided to play innocent. You don't think you're a dog? Don't think you're my pup, my bitch? How about I see what other people think?" He tapped the 'share' icon, browsing the different social media options.

“N-no! No, please don’t!” Theon went to reach for Ramsay’s phone, to smack it out of his hand, but instinctively stopped himself out of fear for punishment. “P-please don’t...”

"If I don't, you have to do something for me in return. That's fair, don't you think?" Ramsay tapped off the share icon, but kept the picture open.

“What do- what do you want?” Theon asked quietly, turning in the small space he had to face Ramsay. 

"Give your master a kiss." Ramsay took his chin, turning his face up to stare into his eyes. "How about that, little pup?"

“I-I- Okay.” 

Just a kiss, that was all, that was easy, wasn’t it? Just one kiss in exchange for Ramsay not posting that photo... he’d expected worse, really, but he felt no relief at the mild request, only dread, and heavy guilt and disgust swirled in his gut as he leaned in to give Ramsay a little peck on the lips. 

Ramsay grabbed him by the waist, backing him all the way against the sink so the rim of it pressed painfully into the small of Theon's back. He nipped at Theon's lower lip, forcing his tongue into his mouth, forcing a deeper kiss.

Theon whined in protest but didn’t dare shove him away, arms hanging limp at his sides. He tried to turn his head, turn away from the kiss, but Ramsay’s grip on his chin stopped him from doing that. He squirmed, letting out a soft cry at the pain it caused as the sink pressed harder against his lower back. 

Theon's lack of response seemed to destroy the fun of it for Ramsay, and he let him go after several unbearably long moments. He took a half-step back, eyeing Theon with disappointment. 

"I let you leave this bathroom, and you'll go running right to the Young Wolf," he said, voice flat. "Won't you?"

Theon shifted uncomfortably, panting softly to catch his breath. He didn’t answer. He’d get in trouble for lying, Ramsay would know, he always knew, he knew everything Theon did wrong and- fuck, he couldn’t stop trembling. He wanted to believe Ramsay couldn’t hurt him here, not at school, but he wasn’t stupid. He stared down at the floor in silence. 

Ramsay scoffed and shook his head. "Of course you will. No respect left for your master, hm? No love left for me?" Ramsay wanted him to look at him, wanted to grab Theon and throw him to the floor, make him remember, but he refrained. "You will. Just wait, little pup, you'll come home soon enough, and it'll be like you never left."

“I won’t. You- you’re wrong.” There was a tugging in Theon’s chest, an instinct to apologize, to drop down on his knees and cry and beg forgiveness- an instinct that had been cruelly beaten into him. He resisted it. It was wrong, Ramsay was wrong. He didn’t love him, he was terrified of him. “You’re not my home.” 

"You can think that, for now, if you want. Master is good, see? So good to you." Ramsay backed away, hands in his pockets. "Master will be keeping an eye on you though, don't worry. He'll know when it's time."

He swallowed hard, nervous, voice meek and quiet. “P-please don’t post that picture. Promise you won’t.” 

"I can't promise that. Not unless you promise me you'll be a good pup and come home." Ramsay stared coldly at him. "But you won't do that. So neither can I."

“Ramsay, please.” Theon slumped back against the sink, quite obviously distressed. Was he not allowed to be happy? Had he done something to make the whole damn universe angry with him? What had he done to deserve becoming the fixation of Ramsay Bolton’s dangerous obsession? His dads voice echoed in the back of his head, taunting him. It was sinful, to lay with another man, and he’d be sent to hell- Balon had threatened to send him there himself. Faggot, pillowbiter, whore, disgusting. Was this the Drowned God’s punishment for not only lying with men, but for taking the woman’s position? To allow himself to be dominated? 

Theon pushed the thoughts away as best he could, but they continued to bother him anyway. “Please. You sent me away. T-this isn’t fair.” 

"I never sent you away," Ramsay disagreed. "You ran away, remember? Just after you betrayed me." He turned and took several steps towards the door, but he kept a watchful eye on Theon in the mirror. "Your poor master, I was so wounded. But I am ready to forgive you... As soon as you're ready to be a good pup again. I love you, remember pup? And you love me. We're meant to be together."

“No. You’re wrong. You- you scare me. I don’t love you, I-I’m scared. And- and I didn’t want to leave, I b-begged you to let me stay, and you wouldn’t let me. But now I’m out of there, and I know what you- the things you did to me were w-wrong.” He tried to look strong and confident, but he was still trembling, holding to the sink for balance. 

"No," Ramsay disagreed again. "That was all training, pup. I almost gave up on you, but... Like I said. Whenever you're ready, pup." He crossed the room and opened the door. "Just know that I won't be patient forever," he said, and exited, leaving Theon alone.

When Ramsay left, Theon cried. Whether from fear or frustration or something else he did not know, but it took him most of the rest of the period to calm himself down. Training. He wasn’t a dog, he wasn’t.

He splashed water on his face, doing his best to hide the fact that he was crying. Ramsay was in his next class, but hopefully he wouldn’t show up... he hadn’t been in any of his other classes yet that day. He got back to the nurse’s office just before the bell rang, assuring him that everything was fine as he waited for Robb to come meet him. 

"Hey, Thee," Robb greeted, breathless from running to the nurse. He reached out and took his hand, smiling warmly at him. "How was your free period? What'd you do?"

“The usual. Caught up on some work.” Theon answered, a little too quickly to be casual. He offered Robb his best smile, giving his hand a little squeeze. 

Robb's face fell. He checked the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, and brought Theon to a private corner. "What happened?" he asked, eyes searching. "Something's up."

“Nothing. Just tired.” Theon lied, unable to look Robb in the eye. “I’m fine, really, let’s just go to class.” 

"Okay," Robb conceded, frowning. He squeezed his hand and they went to art class. Ramsay wasn't there, and Professor Jorah handed back their portraits, with Theon's grade a solid 5/100.

Normally, Theon would’ve protested the grade. He was getting back to be more like his normal self, and he would’ve been able to at least get a laugh at it. But he didn’t have the energy. He crumpled the shitty portrait up and shoved it in his bag, ignoring the way Robb was looking at him. Their next class, home economics, dragged along as always, with Frey complaining about all his children and grandchildren the whole class as if anyone was listening- much less cared. And then they had math. 

He took his seat next to Robb and said hi to Jeyne, who wasn’t nearly as intolerable now that her and Robb were just friends. The Hound soon came in with the usual sour expression on his face. 

Before the Hound could start class, Jeyne had leaned forward and was whispering to Robb. His face grew serious, and more than a little nervous. 

"You're sure?" he asked quietly. She gave him a flat look. 

"Yeah, I'm sure, Robb. I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but... I figured I should tell you first, before I decide anything."

"It is your decision," Robb said. "Just let me know, okay? I'll support you either way, however you need."

She smiled, hugged him briefly, and leaned back into her seat. Her brown hair fell over her shoulder, effectively blocking her face from their view.

Theon looked between the two of them, confused. He considered asking Robb what it was about, but decided against it. He’d refused to tell Robb what was going on with him, so it wouldn’t really be fair to pester him about whatever had him looking so nervous. Still, he was curious... but he didn’t ask. 

The Hound launched into a lesson about some weird mathematical theorem that Theon still didn’t understand at all, and he let himself zone out. 

"Thee," Robb hissed, and reached out to nudge his arm. "He's going over stuff for the final. Pay attention."

"Yes, Greyjoy, pay attention, won't you?" the Hound drawled. "I would hate for you to have to see me again next year if you fail."

Theon winced. He was already at risk of not graduating, seeing as he’d missed months of school while locked in Ramsay’s basement, and he really didn’t need to be reminded. “Sorry.” He mumbled, looking down at his notebook to sloppily scribble down some notes. 

The Hound went on, speaking loudly and briskly, moving to write out the theorem on the board for them to copy down notes. Robb gave Theon a worried glance, making sure he was still paying attention, and the rest of the class passed in boredom while the Hound prattled on, looking equally bored and even irritated with the proceedings. When the class had ended and the students spilled out into the hall in the end of day cacophony, Robb pulled Theon aside. 

"Hey," he said, voice low. "How about we run through the McDavos's drive-thru on the way home, and I buy you some nuggets, and we can talk. Okay? Something's off."

Theon nodded and followed Robb to the car, silent for a while, only speaking again once they’d driven out of the school parking lot. When he did speak, his voice was weak and sad. “What did I do to make the Drowned God hate me so?”

"He doesn't hate you," Robb soothed. "A lot of... really, bad stuff... has happened, but it doesn't mean the Drowned God hates you. Some things are beyond the gods' control, and I think Ramsay Bolton might be one of them."

Theon laughed weakly. “He’s beyond anyone’s control, except for his father. Good ol’ Roose saved my ring finger.” He held up his left hand, wiggling his fingers- two of which were stubs of different sizes, technically. He was quiet for another few minutes. “I saw him today. Ramsay.” 

"He's what—" Robb broke off. He didn't want to say 'scared'. "When?" But he knew, already. "Was that why he was missing during gym, why you were off after the nurse?"

Theon nodded, swallowing hard. “He-he has pictures, Robb, p-pictures of me from the basement. He was going to post them.” 

"He didn't, did he?" Robb cried out, swallowing hard. His grip tightened almost painfully on the steering wheel, knuckles white. "If he did— if he does, I'll..."

“N-no. He didn’t. He made me kiss him.” Theon rested his head back against the back of the seat, closing his eyes. It took a few moments before he spoke again, voice whisper-soft. “I’m sorry.” 

"It's okay, Thee. It's not your fault." It was Bolton's, and Robb wanted to kill him. He'd take that damned phone and shove it right up his... "I just want you to stay safe, remember? I'll keep a closer eye on him during gym, and make sure he doesn't leave again. If he does, I'll come straight to you."

“I kissed him, as quick as I could, and then he shoved me against the sink and kissed me again.” Theon said, feeling sick at the memory. “I didn’t want to. He kept telling me to come home. I don’t want to, I don’t. He- he touched my stomach, asked if you b- if you bred me. Asked when to expect puppies.” A laugh was bubbling up inside him, sad and humiliated and he felt sick, so sick. 

Anger stirred more fiercely in Robb's gut. "Sick fucking bastard," he growled. "Fucking flay him, see how he likes it..." He trailed off and glanced at Theon, whose face was pale and drawn. "I love you, Theon, you know that? So much. I'm sorry I keep failing you."

“He won’t leave me alone. If he- if he has those pictures, Robb, he has- he still has power over me, I can’t-“ He finally let out a sob, lurching forward to hide his face in his hands. 

"We'll figure out a way to take care of it. Either get his phone away, or destroy it, or..." Robb shrugged helplessly. "We'll find a way. I promise. I won't let him do that to you."

“He gets off on them. On me being broken. He- who does that? Who enjoys seeing someone like that?” Theon peeked over at him, face flushed with humiliation. 

"A sick freak," Robb answered, his stomach turning over. "That's who."

“What if he makes me do more? If- if he starts to blackmail me? If he catches me alone again? I- Robb- I’m scared. I’m fucking scared.” 

"I won't leave you alone again, not when he can get to you. If he wants to blackmail you, he'll have to fight me, and the dogs, and my family. And, in case we do get separated, I'll get you a new phone. This can't happen again."

“No.” Theon agreed. “It can’t.” 

They drove up to McDavos’s to get their food, and spent most of the rest of the drive home in silence.


	71. Chapter 71

The morning of May 18th came in a rush. Sansa's prom. The girl was harried, dashing about the house in a state of half-dress, clothed in socks and a fuzzy robe tied tight, her wet hair trailing down her back. Her shoes had been misplaced and her jewelry too—something bound to happen, of course, in a house full of people. It didn't help that Sansa waited until the morning of, and only a mere hour before her hair appointment, to look for them.

Robb let out a sigh, rooting through a hallway closet. Through all the dozens of pairs of shoes, Sansa needed a specific pair, a pale gold set of heels with delicate straps. Frankly, he didn't understand how she would dance in them, and wasn't that the point of prom? He didn't know. He and Theon had gone together to theirs, along with Jon, and the three of them mostly hung out in a corner, snacking and making routine trips to the photobooth to play with the offered props. He supposed Sansa was more of the outgoing social type, and of course she was going with a date.

Oh. There they were. Robb seized the heels and set off down the hall to the bathroom, where Sansa had calmed after finding her jewelry and was now blowdrying her hair. He knocked.

"Sans? I found them," he said, pushing the door open after getting the okay.

“Oh thank you!” Sansa exclaimed, the relief clear on her face. Theon was standing beside her, rooting through her jewelry box to find the right earrings and looking extremely confused at the sheer number of earrings he was finding. He was happy, though, it was obvious, and he looked up at Robb with a smile on his face and a flush to his cheeks.

"Look at you, Sans!" Robb said appreciatively, setting the heels down on the floor beside her. He sidled up next to Theon. "Those ones would look nice on you," he told him, pointing to a gaudy set of dangling, dandelion yellow gems. "They're even in your color."

Theon snorted. “I remember seeing Sansa wear those in the fifth grade. I am not a fifth grade girl.”

Sansa giggled, beaming at Robb and Theon throughly the reflection in the mirror. “They were a Christmas gift, Theon.”

"Yeah, from Ary." Robb chuckled. "She'd be so happy to see you wear them." He plucked them out of the box and held them up. "Look, they're clip-ons. Prime fashion, right here."

"What do you know about prime fashion?" Sansa laughed, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "You just wear sweaters and jeans all the time."

Theon snorted, but Sansa wasn’t about to let him get too cocky. “Don’t you laugh, Theon. You dress like Robert Baratheon on a beach vacation.”

It was Robb's turn to let out a snort of laughter. He could all too well imagine his father's old friend dressed as such, and Theon? Gods. He dropped the earrings back into the box, and Sansa turned back to the mirror with a grin, fetching her fancy golden earrings and putting them on, before picking out a smaller box from within the jewelry box.

"Theon?" she began, opening it up. "I think tonight would be a good night to give this to Margaery, right?" In the box was the ring she had initially bought for Joffrey. "Even if we don't work out, she's still my best friend and that won't change." Her cheeks went pink.

Theon felt a little swell of pride in her chest as she asked him. “I think it would be perfect. I’m sure everything will work out, Sansa. You’re absolutely lovely.” He knew how she felt about her friend, he could tell by the way her face lit up when she spoke about her.

"Thank you," she said happily, and set the box down. She whisked off to get dressed for her hair appointment, and Robb and Theon were alone in the bathroom. Queenie came padding in through the open door, her little toenails click-clacking on the tile.

"I'm so happy for her," Robb said, smiling to himself.

“Hi baby girl.” Theon cooed, scooping up Queenie before looking back up at Robb. “Yeah. Me too, she seems really happy. I just hope this Margaery likes her back in the same way.”

"I think she does." Robb leaned back against the sink, and after a moment hopped up onto the counter. He regarded Theon and Queenie with an affectionate gaze. "I think they can be happy." They could too, he knew. They deserved to be.

“I hope so.” He kissed Queenie’s soft little head, earning a ton of little licks all over his face in return. “Silly girl.” He praised.

"What do you want to do tonight?" Robb asked, leaning back against the wall. "I don't think Jon's going either. Ygritte's not really the type, so..." He shrugged. "Did you want to see if they want to do something?"

“Sure. I want the little princess to come though.” He cooed, beaming down at his little puppy. “She’s such a good girl. Such a good little girl. Robb, look, she’s looking at you!”

She was, having gone from licking Theon’s face to staring at Robb. She yipped.

"Hi there, cutie." He waved to her, grinning, and her little head cocked to one side, tracing his movements. "I bet you're excited to see Ghost again!" If she was, she made no indication of it. She merely blinked at him, and went on staring.

“I love her. Round and soft.” Theon’s expression was bright and happy, his posture relaxed. “Isn’t that right, little Queenie? You’re just a round little fluffy thing, aren’t you? Yes you are!”

She turned away from Robb to look up at Theon and yip excitedly in response.

Drawn by the sound of yipping, Nymeria's massive gray and white form slunk into the bathroom with them. By far the biggest of the wolfdogs, Nymeria's paws were roughly the size of Queenie's face, and her eyes were sharp yellow and hawkish.

"Hey there, Nymie," Robb greeted, knowing Arya hated the nickname. "Where's Ary?" The dog's ears twitched and she glanced back out the hall, either in blatant disinterest or indication that Arya was out there. It was hard to tell with her.

“Hey there big girl!” Theon beamed down at Nymeria, who looked thoroughly unamused. “Should we see if Arya wants to hang out too?” He asked, them instantly decided against it. “Actually, wait, I take that back.”

"What? Don't want to be her sword practice?" Robb joked. Ever since she had gotten it fixed, she'd been toting the fencing sword around everywhere, and Robb himself had been roped into being her dummy. At least Syrio had given her proper gear.

“I’ll leave that to you, thanks.” Theon snickered, carrying Queenie out of the bathroom. He checked to make sure Robb was following him.

* * *

 

Music thumped over the speakers, and dozens of teenagers in dresses and tuxedos danced blithely. Ramsay had never felt so out of place, so unwanted, before in his life, and he was a bastard child. Damon sat beside him, hair falling in strands from its loose bun, donning a plain black and red suit and a lazy grin. They had, or rather Ramsay had, been hoping that Theon would be here, likely with but preferably without the Wolf. He was neither. His pup was missing entirely from the scene, and upon further reflection, Ramsay knew that it was stupid for him to entertain the thought of him being here. His pup wasn't one for loud parties and crowded scenes like this, not anymore.

Damon could see that Ramsay was in a bad mood. He elbowed him playfully. “Well, Rams, at least you look good, right?” He personally was hoping Ramsay would find someone to bring home and hunt.

"I'd look better with my pup," he said sourly. His icy gaze swept over the crowd once more, and he grumbled, turning around in his seat to face the table. Damon followed suit.

“False. Your pup was an ugly fucker by the time we hunted him.” Damon picked a gummy bear off a little glass bowl on the table, tossing it in his mouth. “You could do better.”

Ramsay tensed. "He wasn't," he said quietly. "He was my perfect pup." Well, almost perfect. There was still that little flaw that he hadn't been able to fix, the fact that his pup was annoyingly infatuated with Stark, but he was working on it. He had been, anyways. Then he went and hunted him, and his pup ran away. Now his father gave him that look all the time, a look he didn't think he deserved from a man who kept leeches and regularly bled himself. That was beside the point, thought.

"If you're bored, Damon, go... mingle." He spat the word like the disgrace it was. "Be careful with who you choose, though. Remember, some of them have families that actually care."

“Families that care? Like your bitch?” Damon retorted, instantly regretting it. It was a comment that Skinner would’ve likely slapped him across the face and called him an idiot for.

He punched the table with a bang hardly heard over the bass beat in the shitty music, and turned to glare at Damon. "They're not his family," he snarled, "he doesn't have a family. He's mine. Mine, and mine alone."

“Woah, woah, okay dude!” He held his hands up in surrender before leaning in, lowering his voice. “Listen, Rams. We’re bros, right? Like, best bros? You can be honest with me, man.”

"About what?" Ramsay snapped. "I'm always honest with you, with all of you." Especially Grunt. He was illiterate and couldn't speak, so he was the best person to confide secrets in. Damon was a close second, though, as Ramsay's oldest and most loyal friend.

“Yeah, Yeah, I know. But like. Listen. Answer honest, okay? I’m your bro, I’m not gonna tell anyone.” He raised an eyebrow, glancing around to make sure no one would hear. “Did you love it?”

Ramsay stiffened. "What?" he demanded, enraged. "What gave you that idea?" Was... Was he obvious? He had been thinking of it for days now, turning the thought over and over, and had recently come to the conclusion that he had, in fact... But there was no possible way Damon could know.

“I mean... it’s all you really talk about.” Damon shrugged, tossing another gummy bear in his mouth. “So did you or no?”

"I... Yes," Ramsay said, refusing to meet Damon's eyes. He stared resolutely at his clenched fist on the table top. "I believe I did."

“You could do better.” He stated simply, taking a large swig of his soda and shifting his gaze over to the dance floor. His eyes caught on a particular redhead, dancing with a pretty brunette. “Hey- Hey Rams. Look.”

Ramsay turned his head, and grinned when he saw her. "That's the wolf slut..." he said slowly. "And Tyrell." He looked swiftly back at Damon, the words already on his lips before he rethought them. Much as he wanted to, so desperately craved to see her fall at the fangs of his girls, she was too well-known. She would be searched for, and the Starks would know immediately who had done it.

“Okay, fine.” Damon huffed, knowing the answer to his question before he even asked. “Can we find someone to take back though? The boys and I are getting hungry... and so are your girls.”

"Of course," he said, casting his gaze instead to the corners of the room. There were plentiful girls, and boys, there. They were the ones who had come alone, or with friends, and certain few of those would make for a fun and worthwhile hunt with little trouble afterwards.

“Why don’t we get a boy tonight? Their asses are tighter and they scream louder.” Damon teased quietly, pointing at a slender boy with dirty blonde hair who was standing alone in a corner. In reality he looked nothing at all like Theon, but at least the hair color and body type were almost the same.

"Whatever you want to do," Ramsay said, though his eyes were heavy on the boy, trailing down his frame. Lean, so he could run, but likely without the strong stamina he would need to escape. Perfect.

“That one it is.” A wicked smile curved up the corners of Damon’s lips. “I wonder how much he’ll bleed.”

The boy, as it turned out, bled quite a lot.


	72. Chapter 72

The boy bled, but no amount of red coating his face and body could disguise the fact that he was not Theon. Ramsay did participate in the rape of the boy, but he went harder and crueler than ever before, and when Damon went next to take his turn, even he gave Ramsay a stunned look. Ramsay ignored it, ignored them all, and walked away to sit heavily on the trunk of a fallen tree. Helicent padded up to him, her large paws treading noisily over the dead leaves, and she pushed her snout into his belly, sniffed up his chest, and finally licked his face. He felt his fury ebb away, and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her furry head.

"My perfect girl," he whispered to her. She cocked her head, brown eyes round and sweet, and listened. "Yes, you are. My perfect little girl. I love you too," he told her, and she woofed softly as though to return the sentiment. Yards away, the boy let out a wailing scream, and Damon laughed. Helicent lay her head down on his knee and huffed out a doggy sigh.

Damon enjoyed himself, but it was obvious from the looks he and Skinner exchanged throughout the hunt that they were both a bit worried about Ramsay. Sure, he was a rough and brutal guy, but he’d... really fucked up their prey, to the point where Damon was worried he’d bleed out from his ass before they all got a turn. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone bleeding so heavily from there before.

Skinner didn’t want a turn, so when Damon was finished he brushed himself off, pulled his pants up, and stepped aside to talk to him. He lowered his voice. “He admitted it earlier, you know.”

"Did he?" Skinner's lips parted in shock, but he quickly masked it with a glanced towards Ramsay. He hadn't noticed, too busy murmuring praise to Helicent, but...

"You asked him?"

“Yeah. He wouldn’t stop talking about it. He was really upset that his bitch wasn’t at the prom. Like, really upset. I called the bitch ugly and he defended it.” He gave Skinner a pointed look. It was very much unlike Ramsay to defend someone else.

"I still can't believe he thought the kid would go in the first place," Skinner said, shaking his head. "Or that you went with him." He gave Damon an appreciative look, though, clearly imagining him all cleaned up and wearing a suit. It was a nice thought.

“Who else would he bring? Grunt?” Damon snorted at the thought, slinging an arm over Skinner’s shoulders. He noticed the boy on the ground was starting to lose his fight, slowly going limp. “Anyone else would’ve just picked the first girl they saw. I wanted to give the Ramster a good night.”

"Seemed like he enjoyed it," Skinner said sarcastically. Ramsay had brutalized the boy, taking no clear pleasure in the hunt outside of the distraction it offered. Skinner rather felt as though Ramsay would have more fun watching the dogs tear into him and eat.

“Listen, I tried.” Damon argued, giving him a look. “I couldn’t exactly serve him his bitch on a silver platter. The little Stark girl was there, but he didn’t want to risk taking her.”

"Yeah, that would just get us caught," Skinner agreed. He bit his lip, toying with the piercing rings, thinking for a moment. "He's going to do something drastic, isn't he? Lovesick fool." He glanced again at Ramsay, who was standing now as Luton finished his turn and the boy was barely twitching, eyes merely staring blankly up at the sky as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Skinner detested the criers.

“I hope he doesn’t. If he does some dumb shit, that means we’re all going down with him. And gods know his pathetic little bitch isn’t worth it.” He grimaced, looking away from the crying boy and over to Ramsay, raising his voice. “Can you let the girls at him now? I’m sick of looking at this pathetic little fag.”

"Heli," Ramsay said, voice carrying. "Rip him." Helicent barked, spinning away from him and bounding towards the boy. The moment her teeth sank into him, he let out a hoarse scream, and the other dogs lunged in. They tore into him, shredding him as his screams grew and then faded out. Ramsay watched, ice in his gaze. That was what could have happened to his pup. That was what would have happened, if he had gotten his way. He found himself thanking the gods that he had not.

Damon watched the boy but found his gaze more drawn to Ramsay, reading his expression. What would the bastard have done if they’d killed his pet after all? He wasn’t even aware that Ramsay was capable of such an attachment to someone- none of them were- and he was bad enough within Theon alive and out of reach. He could only imagine how it would have been with Theon dead. The thought made him uneasy- and he was never uneasy. In a move that was very out of character for him, he reached down and laced his fingers together with Skinner’s.

Skinner jerked in surprise and almost pulled away on sheer instinct, but instead he squeezed his hand, gave him a look, and pulled him further aside.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You look..." he trailed off, studying Damon's pretty face.

“Something’s off with Rams. I mean, it’s obvious, but... he’s more unstable than I’ve ever seen him. We’ve known him a long time, Skinner.” He kept his voice low, his expression serious. “If he doesn’t pull it together soon, something bad is gonna end up happening.”

"I know. He... I am worried about him," Skinner admitted grudgingly. "And I've never worried about him, or anyone really, before. It's a weird feeling and I don't like it."

“I just don’t want him to do anything rash.” Damon huffed.

"He has more sense than that, I hope," Skinner scoffed. Ramsay was stroking the back of Grey Jeyne while the dog growled over the boy's arm. "But maybe not."

“Let’s hope he uses his sense.” Damon said with a sigh. “If we’re lucky, his bitch will come back of his own accord. If not... well. I’m not sure what happens then.” He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

 

Theon woke up warm and happy and with his cock hard and pressed up against Robb’s thigh. They’d stayed up late waiting for Sansa to come home, congratulating her on her new relationship. Margaery had said yes, and even in her sleepy three-in-the-morning state, Sansa had been elated. He and Robb had been as well- but more so to go to sleep than anything else.

He nuzzled his face against Robb’s neck, kissing his sleeping boyfriend- was Robb his boyfriend? He wasn’t sure- along his collarbone. “Morning, baby.” He murmured.

"Morning," Robb said, voice husky with sleep. He rolled to face into him so their chests bumped together, and felt Theon's erection against him. He grinned tiredly. "You're up and ready to go early." As much as he'd like to do something about it, he was forced to suppress a yawn as he wrapped an arm around Theon.

“Mm, I’m just happy to be with you.” Theon answered happily, smiling as he looked at Robb’s tired face. The sunlight was streaming in past the curtains, making his auburn curls practically glow, and Theon was sure he could spend the whole day just staring at him. “I gotta question.”

"What is it?" Robb asked, sighing contentedly, lips pressing soft against Theon's forehead.

“What are we?” Theon looked up at him, eyes wide, glimmering in a way they would’ve never done just a few weeks before.

Robb leaned back so he could look down at him and meet his gaze. "I love you, so... We're whatever you want us to be. Whatever makes you happy is enough for me."

“I... I want you to ask me.” Theon replied, a slight bit of pleading in his tone. “Like you asked Jeyne. Like I asked Ramsay. But- but better, because it’s you and me, and not them.” His cheeks flushed.

Wide awake now, Robb sat up. He took Theon's hands and helped him to sit up as well, and they both quietly regarded each other. Robb's eyes trailed down over Theon's body, hidden under an oversized t-shirt. Lost weight had slowly been reaccumulating, but Theon had always been skinny.

"Thee..." he began, but his mouth was suddenly dry and cottony. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Thee, I... Gods, I love you so much. And I've been an idiot, I know, but I want to try making up for that. Will you—" He looked beseechingly at him. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

Theon’s smile grew bright and wide and he was positively beaming, looking into Robb’s eyes for a moment before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Of course. I love you, more than anything. Except maybe Queenie. But I love you. I love, love, love you. My boyfriend.”

Robb kissed him, and they fell back against the mattress with Theon in his arms. Queenie yipped as their momentum caused her to bounce, but quickly resettled. Grey Wind merely curled into a tighter ball, tail over his nose, and snored. Robb laughed, exhilarated.

"Boyfriend," he murmured, kissing Theon's jaw. "Never thought I could call you that. I love it. I love you."

“All the Starks are getting in relationships now, huh? A whole house of gays.” Theon teased, giggling at the feel of Robb’s lips along his jawline.

"I hope the kids aren't... They're too young, still." He moved down his jaw to where it met his throat, and nipped at the soft dip there, sucking in a hickey. His first mark on him as his boyfriend.

Theon whimpered softly, Robb’s ministrations doing nothing to reduce the erection that was tenting up the fabric of his large shirt. “Robb...” he murmured, looking at him with glazed over eyes, but his expression changed suddenly. When he spoke again, he didn’t look to happy about what he was asking. “Um- can I ask- what were you and Jeyne whispering about in math?”

Robb sat back, ensuring a bit of distance between them. His face grew solemn. "She... uh... She's missed her period." They stared at each other for a moment, Theon's lips parted in shock. "She thinks she's pregnant."

“Oh.” Theon said quietly, and something about his whole demeanor seemed to just... deflate. “I- if she- she needs you, then. You should focus on her. I should’ve asked before- I- fuck, I’m so dumb. I should’ve asked about that before asking you to- fuck, Robb.” He felt disgustingly guilty. Asking Robb to ask him to be his boyfriend, asking Robb to be exclusive to him- how could he do that, if some girl was pregnant with Robb’s child? It was unfair. Fuck, he was vile, wicked, selfish... Jeyne obviously needed Robb more than he did, and he’d... fuck, he was so terrible without even meaning it. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I- if I’d known, I wouldn’t have- fuck, I’m sorry.” He looked away, feeling sick, and refused to look back up at Robb.

"Theon," Robb said desperately. "That's not-- No, I want you, I need you... Of course I'll be there for her, if she is pregnant, but she's my friend. Nothing more than that, we both agreed that's for the best, I..." He scooted closer again, placing a hesitant hand on Theon's thigh. "I love you. This wouldn't change that. She has her family, and she'll have me, but you need me too. I need you."

“If she- Robb, a kid needs both its parents. It- you should- you should be with her. She needs you. She needs you, Robb, more- more than I do.” His voice trembled but he kept it steady, hands resting on top of the thigh that Robb wasn’t touching, fingers curling in to dig nails into flesh to calm himself. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

"I'll be in its life," he said, "but that doesn't mean I have to be with Jeyne. That wouldn't make any of us happy-- not me, not her, and especially not you. That's what matters to me."

“You don’t get it. You had a mom and dad who loved each other and you, you- it- fuck, Robb, I don’t know! I can’t- I can’t hog you like this, it’s selfish, I- I don’t wanna be selfish.”

Queenie, sensing his distress, scooted herself across the bed and onto Theon’s lap, nosing at his hands. He lifted them from his thigh, using them to gently pet her instead.

"It's not selfish! Thee, it would be forcing two people together who don't want to be together! What part of that sounds fair? For the sake of a kid that might not exist? She hasn't taken the test yet, she just... She said she had never even been late before, and a condom broke, and..." He trailed off, tearing his hand off Theon's thigh and scrubbing over his face. "Don't do this, Thee."

Theon picked up his puppy, clutching her to his chest, fighting back the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Now Robb was going to be mad at him, because he was bad and stupid and dumb and unfair and selfish, and no good for anyone really, and now if he cried he’d be making it all about him. It wasn’t about him, not at all, and feeling upset made him feel guiltier which made him feel more upset... he drew his knees up as close to himself as he could without smushing Queenie. “I- I’m sorry, I’m just dumb, I don’t know what to do, I’m just stupid, I’m sorry...” He blabbered.

"Don't. You're not, please, I--" Robb leaned forward and grabbed him, pulling him into a hug. Queenie squeaked and squirmed between their chests. "I love you, Thee. I do. Please."

“I love you too, I just- I just don’t wanna do the wrong thing.” He replied weakly, relaxing a bit in Robb’s arms.

"It's not the wrong thing. Never the wrong thing, as long as you're happy. We're happy." He breathed in deep, holding Theon close. He could almost hear his heart pounding.

“Careful. Don’t smush Queenie.” Theon scolded gently, the little pup sniffing and squirming between them, squirming her tiny head up to kiss Robb’s cheek.

"Never," Robb laughed, screwing up his face as the little dog licked him. The bed dipped as Grey Wind saw this and stood, jealous. He nosed his way in between them, shoving his massive head against Robb's and knocking him backwards against the mattress. Then he lay on his chest, and the air escaped Robb in a thin wheeze.

Theon couldn’t help but giggle, laying back so that his own little dog could settle down in a fluffy little ball on his chest. “I just want everything to be okay.”

"It will be. I promise you." Robb raked his fingers through Grey Wind's thick ruff of fur. "Because I love you. We'll have each other, and the dogs, and it'll all be okay. It'll be perfect! You'll never have to worry about anything again."

“I love you too. So much.” Theon looked over at him, but before he could talk again, his new phone buzzed on the nightstand. Almost immediately after his, Robb’s also buzzed. They both buzzed again, and again, signaling three new texts.

Foreboding settled over them, and Robb reached slowly for his phone. That number... Gods, no, not that number. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and swiped open the messages. Theon did the same, face stricken.

Theon stared, placing his phone back face-down on the nightstand after seeing the first text. The first picture. “No- how’d he- how did he get my number?” His hands shook, and the imagine was burned into his brain. It was a different one than Ramsay had already shown him- this one had him passed out, chained by his wrists to the ceiling, all the awful dog-like accessories on him. The lighting was bad, but he could make out the streaks of blood still wet and glistening as they dropped down his legs.

Robb stared in horror, yet so horribly transfixed. "Wha— what does he have you wearing?" he choked out. Ears, tail... Had Theon told him about that? At the moment, his mind was blank and he could not remember. The blood down his thighs, the tears down his cheeks.... "Gods," Robb hissed.

“Please don’t look.” Theon begged, voice shaky and cracking as he spoke. Just looking at it he could feel the phantom sensations of the tail inside him, the headband for the ears digging into the scalp, the metal straps of the muzzle cutting into his face... he shuddered. He couldn’t remember Ramsay ever having taken any pictures, but obviously he had. He almost wanted to know what the second picture was, and the third, but he was too terrified to look.

He wanted to look, wanted to see what had been done to his Thee, even though the sight of the first picture had sent Robb into a reeling mess of twisting guilt and nausea. But Theon had pleaded, so Robb took both their phones and set them aside, pulling Theon into him. He had just told him not to worry, and now? He could only imagine what the other two pictures showed.

"He won't— I'll take care of it, I promise. He won't... He won't do this again. I'll make sure of it this time." Empty promises, the lot of them. What could Robb do? What in the seven hells could he do besides outright kill Ramsay? Even if that's all he wanted to do.

“I don’t even remember- I never saw him take those. Robb, what if he sends them to other people? What if he posts them? I- I can’t, I can’t- why is he doing this to me?” He clung to Robb, hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt, Queenie shifting to the end of the bed to cuddle up with Grey Wind so she wouldn’t get squashed.

"Because he's a bad person. He's a bad person who thinks it's fun to torment good people, like you, and those girls." Robb stroked Theon's hair, eyes shut. "I'm so sorry, Thee. I wish I could have saved you from him."

Theon heard their phones buzz again and couldn’t help but let out a small, soft sob, hiding his face against Robb’s chest. “I just want him to leave me alone.”

"I know, Thee. Me too." But there was little else he could say, little at all that he could do besides hold him and hope for the better.


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here y’all go.  
> Also a reminder: this IS a modern AU, but it doesn’t take place on any real continents. It’s still in Westeros, which means it doesn’t have to legally follow any real places. Despite this, we still tried our best to follow what would be legally done in the real world, but it’s not exact

Crickets and peeper frogs rang out a chorus, but Ramsay's boots tread silently over the grass. Paws padded along at his side, large paws belonging to Helicent and Jez. Kyra trotted along at his heels, looking cheerful, as though this was a fun day trip.

The gray house loomed ahead of him, no lights twinkling in the windows. The only light he could see was the moon, luminescent overhead, and the speckled stars. Not even the porch light was lit. If not for the cars parked in the drive, he could almost think that the house was abandoned, as though anticipating his arrival. That was impossible, though.

Kyra yipped softly, stumbling over a stray dog toy left out by one of the wolf mutts. Ramsay snarled and kicked it; the toy arched high, spinning, and fell with a thump into the grass yards away. His three girls stared after it, stood stock still with their noses sniffing madly. He whistled curtly, and they broke out of their trance to fall in step alongside him once more. They crossed the pathway and ascended the porch steps, and Ramsay tested the knob. It was locked, of course, but he had come prepared for that. He picked the lock and let himself in, holding the door open just long enough for his girls to sneak in as well.

The house was still and quiet, exactly like the last time he had been inside, when his pup had snuck him in for a night of discreet fun. Sneaking out the next morning had been just as exhilarating, and he hoped to recreate that tonight.

If he remembered correctly, his pup's bedroom was just up that staircase and down the first hall on the left.... Distracted, Ramsay didn't notice the approaching set of emerald eyes until it was too late. A hulking black shape stalked after him, hair raised all down its back. Helicent paused, Jez and Kyra only a heartbeat behind her, and at once they all began to growl. It sent chills down his spine, especially when he heard the low, rasping growl that definitely did not belong to any of his dogs.

Ramsay turned slowly to face the black wolf, stood tall against the wall, ears pricked forward and bright eyes boring into him. White fangs gleamed from the shadow of its body, long and pearly and dangerous. Ramsay swallowed, nervous despite himself, and took a backwards step up the stairs. The wolf matched him, long legs and massive paws covering more ground than Ramsay could ever hope to. Its tail swayed slowly.

From the same hallway this wolfdog had emerged from, another followed, its coat a sandy tan color. It growled as well, matching pitch with the black beast, and Ramsay took another step backwards up the stairs. Maybe, if he went slowly enough, they would no longer see him as a threat. Maybe, if he was quiet enough, they would forget him and he wouldn't be caught. His girls' growls rose, and they moved as one towards the wolfdogs. The tan one let out a booming bark, the black one lunged towards Kyra, his puppy, and Ramsay shouted, bounding between them and shoving the black wolf aside, catching its teeth on his own forearm. Helicent snarled like he had never heard before and she leaped for the wolf's throat, jaws wide... And all the lights around the house began to flick on.

Theon recognized the sound of the girls right away. He knew their growls, their barks, and Ramsay’s shout only confirmed his suspicions. Ramsay was there. Inside the house. In the middle of the night on a fucking Tuesday.

“Robb- Robb, Robb, he’s here, he’s here-“ Theon stammered out, shaking his boyfriend awake. He was trembling- he could hear the angry barking and growling from downstairs, could hear the movement in different rooms around the house. He got out of bed before Robb was even really awake enough to process what Theon had said. He was wearing pajama pants and one of Robb’s old shirts that reached partway down his thighs, but he didn’t have it in him to care enough to take the time to get dressed. His Queenie was standing up on the bed and Grey Wind followed him to the door, bolting out the second Theon opened it. “Grey-!”

Theon hurried out after him, not wanting his big fuzzy friend to get hurt- but Grey Wind had already stopped and was standing by the top of the stairs, ready to attack as he looked down at his brothers and the four strangers. His voice, however, and his flicking on of the stairway light was the thing that stopped the chaos going on down below. The wolfdogs both looked up at him, as did the three corsos and Ramsay. He reached a hand down to settle on Grey Wind’s back, more for his own comfort than anything else, and felt his heart sink at the sight of blood on Ramsay and Helicent and Shaggydog.

Kyra was the one who really caught his attention, though- she perked up at the sight of him, golden eyes staring straight into his own, and he had to fight the urge to run to her and kiss her and thank her for that night so many weeks ago. He was faintly aware of other doors opening in the hallway behind him, and he hoped that no one would actually come out into the hall.

Theon finally built up the courage to speak. “Ramsay. What are you doing here?”

"I'm taking you home, Theon," Ramsay said, voice sweet and soft. He hadn't used Theon's name in weeks, months even... It felt strange on his tongue. "Come downstairs, please?"

Downstairs, Catelyn was emerging from her bedroom, and Bran and Rickon from theirs. Rickon clung to his mother's nightgown, staring with rounded eyes at Shaggydog, whose muzzle and shoulder was colored with both Ramsay's blood and his own, marks of Helicent's revenge.

“No. I-I’m not going with you.” Theon stared at him, eyes wide with fear and confusion. His name sounded so sweet from Ramsay’s mouth, so sweet and smooth and soft, but he knew better- he did, he knew. He kept his hand on Grey Wind’s back, the feel of the wolfdog’s fur helping to keep him from panicking.

Robb came up behind Theon, and at his heels were Nymeria and Arya. The hulking she-wolf paused, eyes narrowed and lips pulled back in a snarl, and Arya crouched beside her, whispered the okay, and Nymeria bounded off down the stairs to join her brothers, halting to face off with Jez as the dog spun towards her.

"Rickon, sweetie, go back to your room, okay?" Catelyn urged.

"But— But... Shaggy..." Rickon whimpered, staring helplessly at his snarling dog.

"He'll be okay. Just go back to your room, okay? Bran, go with him, okay? You two don't need to be out here."

They went. Catelyn stepped towards him, braver in her floral nightgown and bare feet than she ever thought she could have been.

"Ramsay. You need to leave."

The look he gave her was foul, loathsome. "Don't speak to me, cunt," he bit out. "You should have died with your husband. Theon, please," he swiveled his head back to face him, "come on, let's get out of here."

"Don't speak to him, or my mother like that!" Robb roared, leaning over the bannister. "Grey—" Grey Wind looked helplessly at him, not wanting to leave Theon alone, but Sansa and Lady were coming now. Lady was timid, understandable given her last encounter with a nighttime intruder, but she pressed flush against Theon and let him comb his fingers through the plush fur of her neck. Grey Wind, though, still stayed put. If nothing else, he could protect Theon here if Ramsay came upstairs.

“I-“ Theon went to stop forward but stopped himself, visibly distressed. He appreciated the dogs on either side of him, and was thankful that Queenie was being a good girl and staying in Robb’s room. Ramsay was saying his name- his name!- and it was making his head spin. Ramsay was pleading with him. “No, Rams. You- you need to leave.”

“What’s goi-“ Sansa stepped out of her room but froze upon seeing the situation. She caught a glimpse of Ramsay and slowly went back into her room to get her phone.

Helicent was inching around Ramsay, eyes fixed on Nymeria, the newest threat. Jez slid around to chase back Summer, who had taken a step forwards, and Kyra merely huddled between Ramsay's legs, staring up at her master, before turning her gaze to Theon. It was almost pleading.

"Theon, please," he tried again, moving towards the staircase.

"You need to leave, now!" Catelyn took a step forward but was blocked by Jez, and then Shaggydog bolted in front of her and barreled into Jez's side, knocking her onto her back, and while Shaggydog had her down, Summer went in for her soft underbelly. Jez yelped and scrabbled away, narrowly escaping, and whirled on the two of them with teeth flashing. Ramsay froze, watching apprehensively—as much as he wanted Theon back, he wasn't willing to risk losing a dog. Jez held her own, though, snapping at them and stalking forwards, driving them back again. Ramsay went again towards the stairs, and Nymeria leaped towards him. Helicent darted between her outstretched paws and sank her teeth into her foreleg, yanking her to the floor, and the dogs grappled, leaving Ramsay free to advance.

“Stop it!” Theon shouted, horrified at the dogs attacking each other. They ignored him, except for one. He stared at Kyra and her sad, pretty golden eyes. She walked forward with Ramsay, and Theon couldn’t look away from her. She slid past her master and up to Theon, though the wolfdogs on either side of him eyed her warily, and she licked his hand as he held it out to her. His heart twisted painfully in his chest and he could only focus on the sweet little puppy in front of him. He knelt down to pet her, stroking her velvety fur.

"See, Theon? She misses you. We both miss you." Ramsay breached the top step and crouched, gazing steadily up at him. Robb tensed beside Theon, glaring down at Ramsay. "Come home, Theon."

Downstairs, the dogs yelped and barked viciously, tearing into each other. Nymeria and Helicent had locked jaws, teeth scraping through the soft skin of each other's muzzles, and Summer tried to break away from the scuffle with Jez, but she lunged at him and chomped down on his tail, yanking him to the ground at her feet. From down the hall, Rickon's wail could be heard, and Catelyn darted off to him. She would call the police too, unaware that Sansa was doing the exact same thing.

Theon slowly looked up to meet Ramsay’s eyes. “C-call your dogs off. Make them stop fighting.” He wrapped an arm around Kyra, giving her head a tiny smooch.

"They won't do that," Ramsay said with a shake of his head. "Not so long as those mutts attack, and they perceive me as being in danger. They're good girls, remember?" He kept his eyes on Theon's, though he was made nervous by the soft growling of the grey beast at Robb's side.

“I said make them stop.” Theon demanded, although his voice shook. “A-and I’ll go with you.”

Ramsay tensed. If he did, he ran the risk of one of his girls getting severely hurt, or worse, but... Theon. His pup.

"Thee!" Robb cried, aghast. Arya, though, looked swiftly at Theon and moved to the bannister. She made a sharp, piercing whistle and Nymeria instantly stopped, her brothers following suit. Ramsay stood, shouting out to his dogs, and they too fell still.

“You need to leave.” Theon said shakily, giving Kyra another soft smooch before standing up. “I-I didn’t press charges before, but I- I will now. You can’t- you can’t keep doing this shit to me. You can’t come here, a-and endanger everyone. I have proof of everything you’ve done to me. It’s all over me. And- and you sent us those pictures. I just- I just wanted you to l-leave me alone, but you won’t!”

Something in Ramsay snapped. "You belong to me!" he roared, stomping towards him, hand out to grab him. Grey Wind let out a horrible, screeching snarl and attacked; his teeth sank into Ramsay's arm, tearing through layers of flesh and muscle and blood poured around his white muzzle. Ramsay screamed and Kyra abandoned Theon's side, dashing forward and plowing into Grey Wind's flank, ripping into him with spittle flecked at her lips. Below, the dogs resumed their fight. Nymeria grabbed Helicent by the shoulder and flung her against the wall. The dog yelped, black fur shining wet with blood, and limped to her feet. Though she favored that leg, she looked no less like a spitting black monster as she advanced on Nymeria, but Nymeria was her match. Ears flattened back against her skull, lips pulled back in a rumbling growl, feet stood apart... Named after a warrior queen of old, the wolf surely earned it.

Summer's own yelps split the air as Jez bit into his neck, but Shaggydog butted into the Corso and pinned her beneath him as Summer stumbled away, bleeding freely and whimpering for his master.

“Who will take care of your dogs when you’re in prison? I suggest you enjoy your time with them instead of making them f-fucking attack the Stark dogs.” Theon snarled, though his confidence quickly waned. “Oh fuck- fuck- Kyra, Grey Wind, stop! Summer! Heli!”

Sansa stepped out of her room in that moment, paler than usual but her expression was stone cold and her voice steady and strong. “I’ve called the police. They’re on their way now.”

Ramsay paled, knowing that unless he got out right now, there was no way he was getting out of this. "Theon, please, I need you. I love you, Theon, just come home. It'll be like it was before, just us and the girls... You would like that, wouldn't you? I'll even get you a new necklace." Whatever pride he had was out the door; he just wanted his pup back.

Grey Wind released Ramsay, finally, and whirled to try and sink his teeth into the young Corso currently attacking him. She forced him back a step, he missed, and the pair of them tumbled head over tail down the stairs, crying out as they hit each step. Robb's face was stricken, frozen between calling out for his dog and screaming at Ramsay to get away. Anything he might have said would have been drowned out in the next second, as Nymeria yelped and Arya screamed, throwing her fencing sword at Helicent as the dog shredded Nymeria's broad chest.

"Get off of her!" Arya screeched, as the sword struck Helicent's already wounded shoulder and she staggered away, dazed, allowing Nymeria several seconds to retreat and catch her breath. Arya exhaled sharply, then shoved past Robb and Theon in a dash downstairs to retrieve her weapon. Ignoring this all, Ramsay made his pleas.

“You- you don’t love me- you just hurt me.” Theon whimpered, Ramsay’s pleading making his head spin and his heart ache. “I don’t want- I don’t- I hated it before! I hated that basement and I-I hated being whipped and beaten and raped all the time, a-and I don’t want another stupid necklace. Y-you beat and raped me because of that necklace, I don’t want another one, I-I don’t, I just want you to leave me alone!”

"Theon!" Ramsay said desperately, reaching for him again. Lady, the little warrior, bared her teeth at him, and Robb stepped in front of Theon, blocking him from Ramsay. They glared at each other, but Ramsay's attention was drawn by the repeated yelps of Helicent below. He spun on his heel and looked down.

Arya beat at Helicent with the fencing sword, striking her and hurting her even with the blunted edge of the weapon. "Rip her!" Ramsay screamed, staring wildly down at the scene. "Rip them all!"

Jez and Shaggydog were still battling, though Summer had retreated, and Helicent was doing everything in her power to dodge Arya's blows with the sword. At the sound of Ramsay's order, they both perked up, and Jez split away from Shaggydog, bounding towards Arya.

"Ary!" Robb called. "Look out!" She did, and her eyes widened at the sight of the dog barreling towards her. She ducked, and Jez's leap carried her over Arya to land, confused, on the floor beside Helicent. Jez whirled around and barked, calling Kyra to their side, but Kyra was overwhelmed. Grey Wind had her pinned beneath him, and she fought valiantly but she was just a year old and a lithe little thing anyways, and he was twice her size. He stood over her, jaws spread wide to deal a final blow, aimed for her soft throat.

“No!” Theon screamed, lunging at Grey Wind to pull him away. “She’s a puppy- she’s a puppy, don’t!” There were tears spilling from his eyes now as he struggled to pull the massive dog away. “Ramsay, make your dogs stop! Make them stop it! A-Arya, bring the dogs and hide in your room, please!”

"Rip them!" Ramsay repeated, voice carrying over Theon's. "Do it!"

Arya, however, heeded Theon's words and she grabbed Nymeria and pushed her away, retreating, though the she-wolf tried to push past her and lunge at her foe Helicent again. Shaggydog was at Summer's side, nosing at the blood slowly matting the creamy fur of his neck, and neither objected when Catelyn returned, face pale, to coax them away. She, too, had called and had been told the police were on their way already, but unlike Sansa she did not warn Ramsay. The police station was barely a ten minute drive from the Stark house, and if they were speeding, which they likely were...

Ramsay swore and darted down the stairs, grabbing Theon by the arm. Kyra escaped from under Grey Wind, tail down, darting to Helicent's side. "Come home," he ordered, though the words were masked in a pleading tone. "Theon, come home. It doesn't have to be like this, you're making it like this."

“I-I- I-“ Theon stammered. Was he making it like this? Was this all his fault? It was, wasn’t it? It was. If he’d just gone with Ramsay, none of the dogs would’ve gotten hurt, no one would be in danger... “N-no, no- you shouldn’t be here, this is your fault, n-not mine!”

He clawed at the hand holding his arm, peeling Ramsay’s fingers away, forcing him to release his grip.

Ramsay paused for a moment, staring at him. He couldn't... No, he couldn't bear the thought of Theon being here, being Robb's and not his...

"Kyra," Ramsay said slowly. "Rip him." But the dog merely looked at him, dismay clear in her face. He lost it. "Kyra! Jez! Helicent!" Heli, his Heli, she would do it. She never failed him, never disappointed him... "Heli, do it! Rip! Kill!"

Obedient, Helicent dashed forward, set on her target, but Robb was already sprinting down the stairs. He was not Helicent's target, though, and she merely dodged around him as he tried to intercept. She barked once, backing Theon against the wall, and Ramsay's gut was twisting. Goodbye, pup...

A fist struck his jaw and Ramsay staggered back, opening his eyes and seeing Robb Stark in front of him. Behind him, Grey Wind had driven Helicent back from her prey, and behind him, through the window, Ramsay could see lights flashing.

“Heli, no!” Theon looked her in the eye. She was limping badly, obviously quite injured and tired. “Calm down, girl, calm down. It’s gonna be okay. Your- your bad master is going away for a long time, a-and you’ll get another owner, someone nice. Calm down.” He was relieved that her and Grey weren’t fighting, rather just staring each other down and growling.

The front door was opening as Theon walked up to Ramsay, tears on his cheeks, moving between him and Robb. He lifted his hand and, in a moment of uncharacteristic confidence, slapped Ramsay across the face- hard.

Ramsay caught him by the wrist, cheek stinging, and shoved him back against the wall. He crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss, and Robb cried out, but the next second Ramsay had stiffened— no, the muscles of his back had, it spread through his body, and then it was arching through Ramsay's whole body and he dropped to the floor, spasming.

Officer Tarth stood in the doorway, taser gun in hand, holding tight as 55,000 volts coursed through Ramsay's body.

Theon stared at him, shaking, reaching a hand up to wipe his mouth. His whole body was trembling violently and he stumbled over to Robb, quickly taking hold of his arm and pressing up against his side. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I-I’m so sorry.” He looked from Ramsay to the three corsos, mainly at Kyra, who was whimpering and nudging her nose against her master.

The moment Officer Tarth relinquished the tase, Ramsay's body relaxed and he tried to stand, though his body was shaky. He glowered at her, opening his mouth to demand she remove the prongs as well, because he could still feel them in his back, but she gave him a hard look and hit the tase again, dropping him back down to the ground. Helicent whined loudly, nosing at him, and Jez pawed at his back. Kyra trotted in a circle around him, anxious. The chief of police, Jaime Lannister, moved towards them, clearly intending on capturing the dogs, but the moment Tarth released the hold, Ramsay lifted his head.

"Run! Go, get away," he urged. The dogs whined, and Helicent looked especially reluctant. "Please. I can't lose you. Go on, you perfect girls... I'll catch up to you." He stroked their heads and shoved them towards the door. As Jaime reached them, they bolted, dodging around him and Tarth to escape through the open door. Ramsay screwed his face up and relaxed back against the floor, knowing they would be safe, but he was doomed.

Theon watched in silence for a moment before kneeling down, looking Ramsay in the eye once again. “You will never, ever, touch me how you want again.”

Ramsay twitched, face twisted rage, and grief over his dogs, and Tarth tased him again.

"Stay down," she ordered. "Greyjoy, get away from him. I'd hate to have to shoot him, if he doesn't stay still." But her other hand was on her gun, and the look on her face said quite the opposite.

“You will never kiss me again, or hold me, or-or fuck me. Never again. Never.” Theon stood up, stepping back to be next to Robb once again, taking hold of his hand.

Sansa and Arya both watched in silence, and Catelyn crossed the room.

"Brienne," she said quietly. "Please, just... Get him out."

Officer Tarth nodded, and her and Jaime seized Ramsay by the arms and hefted him up. He didn't move, weak from the tases, but his eyes dragged over Theon and Robb as the officers cuffed him.

Theon looked away from Ramsay, instead focusing on Robb’s face- not giving his ex the satisfaction of even looking at him as he was taken out of the house.

As he was carried outside, Ramsay swept his gaze across the lawn, now lit by the flashing lights of police cars. His girls were gone, nowhere to be seen, and he trusted that they would soon enough return home. Damon, and Skinner, and Ben Bones... They would all see to it that his girls remained safe, no matter what happened to him.

Robb took Theon's hand. "Are you okay?"

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, looking around. “I’m- the dogs. Are the dogs okay?” They’d all fought, and Theon felt terribly guilty. Not to mention his worry about the younger Stark kids. It was horribly late at night as well- or, rather, early in the morning.

"They'll be okay. Right, Grey?" Robb dropped to his knees and ruffled the wolfdog's fur. He bled from numerous wounds, but still sat back on his haunches and gave a doggy grin, tongue lolling, as Robb petted him. "Honestly, I'm more worried about Bolton's dogs. They got pretty torn up, and he's not around to take care of them now."

“Ben will.” Theon answered instantly. “I- I won’t press charges against Ben. If they find him, that is. I want them to find the other boys. Yellow Dick. Sour Alyn. Damon.” Their names tasted sour on his tongue. “I- I just worry about his girls. He has nine, a-and they’re not bad dogs, they’re not. They’re good girls. Especially Kyra, the little one. She- she’s the one who let me go when they hunted me. She’s a good girl. She’s just a baby.”

Queenie trotted out of the room just then, pit-pattering down the stairs, as if summoned by the word ‘baby.’ She was, after all, the baby of the house- along with Rickon. She didn’t seem to notice any of the blood or signs of chaos around the house, happily walking over and sitting atop Theon’s feet.

Officer Tarth came back inside, pulling Catelyn aside and speaking quietly with her for a minute. When she had finished, she turned to Theon.

"Mr. Greyjoy, I know it is late and I'm sorry, but I would like for you to come down to the station to give some statements. Is that all right?"

"Can't it wait?" Robb asked before Theon could say anything. "He just..."

"It could, of course," Tarth said. "But we would like to begin working on this case as soon as possible, and we need all the facts you can give us."

“Can I bring Queenie?” Theon asked, scooping up the tiny pup. “And Robb?”

"Of course." She led them out to the cars, where other officers were milling around. Ramsay had clearly been tased again, and lay slumped against the side of a cop car, staring out into the woods. When he heard them approach, he turned his piercing gaze on them, and didn't look away again until Theon and Robb and Queenie were all in the back of Chief Lannister's own car.

Theon sat in the small middle seat so he could be closer to Robb, Queenie sitting politely on his lap. “I’m sorry. For everything.” He looked at his boyfriend with sad eyes, leaning a bit against him.

"It's okay now. It'll all be okay now. They have him, and they're getting the boys."

Chief Lannister, a handsome blond man, climbed into the front and looked at them in the rearview mirror. "Officer Tarth is going right now, to apprehend all of them. You have nothing to worry about now.”

Theon nodded. “Thank you.” The man looked familiar, and it hit him that the officer looked weirdly like Sansa’s ex boyfriend. He didn’t say anything about it, tilting his head to rest it on Robb’s shoulder. “Robb, look at Queenie. She’s being so good.”

"She's always being good," Robb said, stroking the pup's head. Robb sighed, cherishing the feel of Theon against him. Awful as it was, he couldn't summon up any sort of horror over what had happened. He didn't feel like he had almost lost Theon, because he never would have. Not like that. Theon was never going back there.

“I’m so glad she stayed in your room the whole time. Aren’t you? Isn’t she so smart?” Theon’s terror was melted away now, and he was relaxing with the knowledge that Ramsay was going to be locked away, and with the warm body beside him that belonged to the man he loved.

"The smartest!" Robb made a kissy noise at her. Chief Lannister smiled to himself, flicking his lights on to speed through the little traffic that was out on the roads.

“She’s a good little girl. Yes you are. Yes, yes you are!” Theon cooed, smiling down at the little pup. She was starting to wiggle with excitement in his lap, looking from him to Robb and back to him.

"You're so brave, Thee," Robb murmured, kissing his cheek. "I love you."

“I love you too.” Theon smiled, letting out a soft sigh. “More than anything.”


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! I personally really love chapter 75 but y’all gotta wait till next week for it... sorry -m

Theon had been in a police station before, when he was younger. There were a few times when his dad or his brothers got in trouble, but he didn’t remember it very well, and it was unfamiliar when he walked in. He held Queenie in his arms, holding her warm fuzzy body to his chest as he followed Officer Lannister inside. They went down a few halls until they reached what looked like an interrogation room, with the windows and sketchy table and chair and everything. 

"Sit down," Lannister said, gesturing to the metal chair. He walked around to the other side of the table and sat down, placing his hands on the table— well, hand. One was a prosthetic. Robb was forced to remain outside, staring longingly at the door, before a stray officer escorted him into the side room to watch through the one-way window. 

"So, Mr. Greyjoy. Theon. Can I call you that?" He chuckled. "I know your Uncle Euron, and I knew your father and brothers. I have to say, you came from a rough family."

“Yeah. It’s- yeah.” Theon nodded slowly in agreement, glad for the ball of fluff now sitting in his lap. He didn’t like talking about his family. It was pointless. ‘Yeah, my mom is dead and my dad- who used to hit me, by the way- is also dead, and my brothers- who also hit me- are both dead, and my sister is living with my creepy ass uncle.’

It wasn’t a great conversational topic. 

He eyed Jaime’s hands then looked down at his own. Could he get a prosthetic finger for the pinkie he lost? He hadn’t even considered it before, but maybe...

Jaime followed his gaze and smiled. "Lost it in a fight. Wish I could it was a valiant loss, but..." He wiggled the stump of his arm, the silicon material following the movements. It wasn't like the real thing, but it was something. He studied Theon's hands, loosely curled into Queenie's fur, and the mutilated fingers. Something set in the lines of his face. 

"How about we do this. I ask you some questions, and you answer them to the best of your abilities. Okay?"

“Okay.” Theon nodded quickly, fascinated by the fake hand, but tore his gaze away to look at Jaime’s face instead. “Okay. I’m ready.” 

"First things first," Jaime said, eyes still set on Theon's hands. "Why don't you tell me what happened to your hands?"

Theon twitched but lifted his hand from Queenie’s fur and set them atop the table. “My- the left pinkie, one of Ramsay’s friends decided to flay it, a-and it was so bad they had to cut it off.” He winced at the memory of how it had hurt so terribly, how Ramsay had held him and called him his poor little puppy... “My, um- my left ring finger and my two nails on my right hand Ramsay cut off because he was m-mad at me. He would’ve taken more of my finger, b-but his dad interrupted.”

"May I see?" Jaime asked, easily masking his reaction. Theon held his hands out to him, and Jaime examined without touching. After a moment, he leaned back and sighed. 

"This is going to be a lot, isn't it? Why don't you just start from the beginning, and tell me everything you can. I'll just listen." Despite saying this, he pulled out a notepad and pen.

“He- well, Robb and I got in a fight, and Ramsay started talking to me, and he was really, really nice- and really sweet and he spoiled me and bought me stuff all the time, and he always complimented me... so eventually we became boyfriends, and it was great, un-until our one month. Our one month anniversary was on Valentine’s Day, and he- that’s- that was-“ He took a deep breath. “That was the first time he raped me.” 

"The first time?" Jaime echoed, scribbling down notes on the important pieces. He winced. "My apologies. Go on." It was typically better, he knew, for victims in situations like these to speak of it uninterrupted so they could get into a flow, and get it all out fast.

Theon took a deep breath and then began to tell him everything- about the first time Ramsay beat him, about the basement, the whipping- about Kyra and Tansy and the lies he was told about Jon, Robb, and Sansa. He told him about the starvation, the branding, the horrible tail and collar and muzzle. When he was finished talked, he fished his phone out of his pocket with fumbling hands. “I- he took pictures when he had me. He sent them to me. There’s proof.” 

Something stirred in Jaime's gut but he smothered it. He was good at that. "Theon. May I take your phone for just a minute, into the other room? We'll have to print these. Then you can delete these and block the number, okay?"

He nodded, his hands shaking as he handed over his phone. It didn’t have a passcode on it, making it easier to access in case of an emergency, and making sure Robb was able to get on it too. Before Ramsay, he would’ve had a heart attack if anyone touched his phone, but now he felt safer if Robb was able to get on it. He didn’t quite understand why. “I-I just don’t wanna look at them. I saw the first one he sent, I didn’t look at the others. They should be the only texts in there without a contact name.” 

"Thank you," Jaime said simply, and left the room. He hooked the phone up to a computer in another room, pulling up the photos, and his gut dropped when he saw them. The first one was bad enough, but as he scrolled down to the second and third ones, he almost had to sit down. The second showed the kid knelt on the floor, collared and chained, with his chest and sides all coated with blood, and likely his back too. Blood oozing from deep wounds that looked like whip lashes. Theon's head was forced back, and a man's lower body partially obscured the side of the frame. Theon was being made to... Jaime nodded slowly and scrolled to the third. Undoubtedly worse. 

He was sprawled on the floor in this one, still collared but this time wearing the metal muzzle and ears. The tail, too, but it was held up by a man whose face could not be seen in this picture, but who was penetrating Theon in a harsh enough way to convey even through image. In front of Theon, a man with sallow skin and lank brown hair hunched, hand on his filthy, nasty dick. 

For reasons unknown to Jaime, Ramsay Bolton had chosen to commemorate these scenes of torture. He had then chosen to send these pictures to Theon. For what? What did the man hope to gain from this? He shook his head, printing out the photos and slipping them into a plain manila file folder. He returned to the interrogation room where Theon awaited.

Theon was kissing Queenie’s tiny little head when Jaime returned, and he looked up at him with flushed cheeks, the shame he felt obvious in his expression. He didn’t know what those other pictures were, he didn’t know how much this man he’d known for such a small amount of time had seen. He clutched Queenie a little tighter as he took his phone back. 

"I suggest you just delete those, and don't look," Jaime said quietly. He had no doubt in his mind that Theon would not want to be reminded of the most horrific things that had happened to him.

Theon nodded quickly and did just that, deleting the messages without a second thought. The way Jaime spoke made him even more nervous about what the photos might have been, but he decided he’d rather not know, and so he didn’t ask. “I- um- can I ask something?” When Jaime nodded, he continued. “Did- did they get any of the boys? Can you ask?” 

"Officer Tarth is at the Bolton house right now, along with some of our other finest." He crossed his arms, walked several paces, and stopped at the glass window. Jaime gazed up at the surface, the mirrored reflection of his own face and Theon's, staring wide-eyed up at him. 

"With your testimony, we can put them away for rape, kidnap, torture, and murder in the first degree. Do you know what they do with the girls' remains, after they 'hunt' them?" He put air quotes around the word.

“I-I’m not sure. The girls eat them, and I think Grunt cleans the rest? He only took me on one, then he put me downstairs alone for- for a few days, I don’t know, it was so dark...”

Jaime looked disappointed, but didn't complain. It wasn't Theon's fault, after all. Besides that, the boy had been through severe trauma. His own phone buzzed, and he picked up. After a rushed, curt conversation he hung up again and returned to his seat across from Theon. "That was Tarth right now. They have three of them, but couldn't find any dogs, or anybody else at all."

“Which ones?” Theon asked before he could even really think about what he was saying. Damon, he hoped, and Yellow Dick- he hated those two more than any of the others. He hated all of the boys, really, but those two... if he thought too much, he could remember how Yellow Dick’s namesake tasted when it was forced down his throat. He swallowed hard, paling considerably. 

He shrugged helplessly. "She doesn't know. One's blond, another has facial piercings, and the other is dirty looking? With brown hair." He shrugged again, leaning back in the metal chair.

The dirty brunette was Yellow Dick, Theon was sure. Luton was a brunette as well, but he wasn’t dirty. Blond was probably Damon- the first thing Theon really noticed about him was his platinum blonde hair- and piercings... Skinner. He remembered Skinner’s facial piercings, each and every one of them, the way they glistened in the dim lighting of his basement room. He counted them sometimes, to occupy himself when Skinner grew tired of listening to him talk. He stroked Queenie’s soft little head and sighed. “I- do you need- can I go home?” 

"Do you think you can hold out for ten more minutes? Just until they get here, so you can identify them?" Jaime gave him a long look. "If not, that's all right. You can go home, get some rest, and we'll do this later."

“I- yeah. Okay. I can stick around.” Theon nodded. “But can I go back out with Robb now? I miss him.” 

"Of course." Jaime stood and escorted Theon out, leading him to a more comfortable chair where he could wait, and a moment later Robb was dashing out, beelining to Theon. 

"Thee!" he gasped. "They had me in a side room... You did so good, Thee, I'm so proud of you."

Theon couldn’t help the little smile that spread across his face at the praise, feeling his cheeks flush as he stood up, placing Queenie down on the seat, and wrapped his arms around Robb in a tight hug. “I just talked, that’s all.”

"That's all you need to do." Robb kissed him. "You're so important to me, Thee. I love you so much."

Jaime left them alone, crossing the room and entering his office. He tossed the file folder onto his desk, and sat heavily in his chair. Brienne was on her way, with only three of the Boys. They had been after the Boys for some time, but nothing would stick. Until now. Shame that they only caught the three, because the rest would surely flee now, but hopefully... He shook his head. Hopefully, Theon Greyjoy wasn't fucked up for life.

“Love you more.” Theon teased gently, only pulling away from the hug when Queenie yipped in annoyance at being ignored. He smiled a little at her. “Oh, I’m sorry, how could I neglect you? It’s almost as if I don’t tell you I love you every five seconds.” He scooped her back up, letting her lick his face then holding her up to Robb’s so she could lick him too. 

"She likes to hear it. So do I." Robb wrinkled his nose, grinning, as Queenie licked his face. "I mean, can you blame her? Who wouldn't want to hear that from you?"

Theon’s face flushed a darker shade of red and he shook his head. “You shush.” He was about to continue talking when Jaime Lannister walked back in, looking rather solemn. 

“Officer Tarth is here with the three boys.” He stated. 

Robb scowled, turning his head to look towards the door as it swung open. He felt Theon tense beside him. Three men walked in, handcuffed, escorted by Officer Tarth and another officer. The first was Damon, Robb knew, his blond hair awry but still wearing that smirk. Behind him was a rather ugly man with lank brown hair and pockmarks. Bringing up the rear was a man with dirty blond hair and numerous crude facial piercings.

Damon, Yellow Dick, and Sour Alyn. Theon flinched at the sight of them, clutching Queenie closer to his chest. They were all three looking at him, but all were silent except Damon. 

He knew he was fucked, no matter what he or the others did or said, and it was obvious by the way he was leering at Theon. “Hey there, little bitch. Slutty little pup.” He hissed, wiggling his perfectly sculpted brows.

"Don't talk to him!" Robb snapped. "Get the fuck away from him."

"Keep moving," Tarth ordered, pushing him onward. They shuffled onwards, Damon still sneering back at him, but the other two dipped their heads and glowered at the floor as they walked.

Theon watched them, trembling slightly, Queenie licking at his cheek in concern. “I know them all. I- I may not know their real names, but I know them.” He told Jaime, shifting sideways to be closer to Robb. 

"We can find them," Jaime said. "Check the databases, run DNA tests... Whatever we need to do. But for now, if you can tell me the names you know them by, that would be great. And, which ones we're missing. If they use these aliases, we can track them."

“The one who talked was Damon. They- they called him Damon Dance-For-Me, because of his whip.” Theon’s expression twisted at the memory of the whip biting into his skin, slicing into him over and over... he pushed it away as best he could. “He was probably Ramsay’s best friend. Him and-“ 

Skinner. He hesitated to say it. Skinner had seemed nice when he was locked up in that basement, but looking back on it... Skinner had hurt him too. Raped him, cut him... Skinner was no better than the rest. 

“Him and Skinner. You didn’t get Skinner. You got Yellow Dick-“ He pointed, “And Sour Alyn. You’re also missing Grunt and Luton.” He didn’t mention Ben, because Ben had never actually laid a hand on him, and he knew Ben would be taking care of the girls. 

"We'll get them," Jaime promised. "I just need—"

"He identified them. Can we go home, now?" Robb interrupted, taking Theon's hand. Jaime blinked, caught off guard. He looked carefully at Robb. 

"Yes," he said slowly. "You can. We'll be in touch, Theon," he said, and walked after Brienne and the captured Boys.


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some POV from the skinny lad

Gods. Damon was gone. The thought struck him suddenly, cutting deep. Skinner didn't know, not for sure, but there were police cars swarmed around the house, and Damon had been home. The girls crowded around him, and Ben Bones was murmuring to them, but Skinner didn't take his eyes off the house. Damon. Damon. Damon.

If Damon was gone, Skinner would... Gods. He didn't even know what he would do. Scream? Fight? Beg? Cry? No. None of those things were him, and it wouldn't be fitting anyways. Damon would fight the police, he knew, and if the kid had spilled his guts and the police knew all now... They wouldn't hesitate to shoot if he put up too much of a fight. Skinner swallowed back his fears and watched. Maude pushed her muzzle against his hand, limp at his side, and he stroked her slowly. There was movement in the windows now, and people were emerging. Gods, how many cops had they sent?

The spinning lights were making him sick.

Willow whimpered, nose in the air, and Ben Bones hurriedly shushed her. If she were to bark, or howl, she would give them away. Much as Skinner wanted to rush in and get Damon out, the rational side of him knew he would be caught as well. He was no help to Damon, or Ramsay, if he was behind bars, and he held no inclination that the kid would spare him in his tirade. If anybody was going down, they all were. So he stood still and waited, watched, and saw Yellow Dick hauled out. Sour Alyn was next, and Skinner couldn't muster up even a flicker of outrage at the way they were manhandled, or dread that they were going away forever. Where was Damon? He hadn't heard a gunshot, but it was only the three of them home. Not even a dog was inside still, no, the other six Ramsay hadn't taken with him were with Skinner and Ben Bones.

Skinner had had a hunch. Obviously. It was such a stupid idea, the worst that Ramsay had ever had. Breaking into the Stark house in the middle of the night? Stupid. He had told him, they all had told him, so in retaliation Ramsay went alone, with only his toughest girls and Kyra too, for good measure. Skinner figured it was a ploy to get Theon back on his side, by parading his favorite of the girls around in front of him. Clearly, it hadn't worked, and Ramsay was no doubt in the back of a police car right now. Helicent, Jez, and Kyra were likely on their way to the pound right now, and Skinner didn't know if he would be able to get them back. Likely, he and the others who hadn't been home would make the Westeros wanted lists, and he wouldn't be able to go anywhere without a target on his back. Least of all a dog shelter, where dogs known to be affiliated with Ramsay Bolton and his Boys were held. Would they even be adopted out? Or would they simply be euthanized? Skinner didn't want to think too deeply on that; he knew the answer.

He didn't have time to worry about the girls, though, not now--

A yell split the night, and screaming curses. Here came the big lady officer, and two other male officers, hauling out that handsome blond Skinner was dreading to see. Damon was twisting in their grip, spitting curses and kicking at the officers' legs. His wrists were cuffed behind him, but that didn't stop him from putting up the sort of spectacular fight Skinner would expect from him. That is, until the tasers came out.

Damon went rigid and fell to the ground, and Skinner winced. Fuck. Damon was getting up again though, swearing at the top of his lungs, but was promptly sent down again. Skinner took a step forward and Ben caught his wrist, shaking his head. He pointed with a gnarled hand, indicating the officers now moving in their direction to sweep the woods. They would have to run, as much as Skinner hated the thought, and likely would not be able to return for weeks-- if at all.

Fucking Ramsay. This was all his damned fault.

As they turned to run, the girls pacing anxiously around them, Skinner cast one last glance over his shoulder. Damon was being forced into the back of a cop car, and as he struggled, the lady officer clocked him over the head. Skinner gnashed his teeth, vowing revenge, and tore after Ben. He would get his Damon back. Eventually. He just hoped Damon would keep a reasonable mind in prison, where he would inevitably end up. He just hoped he wouldn't get too severe of a sentence-- what was the usual sentence for a serial rapist and murderer, anyways? How much would Roose help them, if at all? It wasn't like the man cared too much for his son or his friends, or anyone at all, but the scandal this would cause... The man was disliked enough as it was, his political career couldn't withstand something like this. So what would happen to them? He didn't know, and this too was not something Skinner wanted to think too much on. He didn't have the time for it, not now. For now, he had to save his own ass. He ran.

* * *

 

Theon was on top of Robb, half-naked and straddling his waist, their lips moving together in a passionate kiss. Robb was so warm beneath him, so strong, Theon’s hands tracing over his strongly muscled chest. He ground down against him, the bulge firm beneath his ass.

“Robb,” he whimpered, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to look into his boyfriend’s pretty blue eyes. “I can- I think I can.”

"Are you sure?" He shifted beneath him, erection painful in his jeans. "I don't... I don't want you to feel forced. Or obligated. You could fuck me, again—"

Theon rolled his hips, friction chasing all thought out of Robb's head. A soft moan escaped him and his eyes fluttered shut.

“I want you, Robb. Inside me. I want your cock inside me. I want to feel you stretching me, a-ah,” His breath hitched as he rolled his hips again, his own cock twitching in his pants at the feel of how hard Robb’s was beneath him. “I wanna feel your come in me, please, Robb.”

He reached down, fumbling with the button and zipper on Robb’s jeans until he finally got them undone, reluctantly lifting himself off his lap so that he could pull them off. His boxers came next, slowly moving to reveal his cock, and Theon’s whole body felt heated with lust. He moved to carefully lay on the bed next to Robb, turning to face him.

“I want you. It’s okay. And if I need to stop, I’ll tell you. I trust you, Robb. I trust you more than anyone else in the world, and I love you.”

Robb moved to hover over him, eyes lustful but hesitant as they swooped down Theon's body. The scars, that hateful name on his chest... His body was a map of the horrible things that had been done to him. Robb wanted to make his own marks, of love and pleasure and everything good he could possibly imprint of him. He bent and pressed his lips to Theon's own, kissing him for a minute before moving down his cheek and jaw to his throat, and down to his collarbone, where he sucked a line of hickeys.

Theon moaned, watching him with half-lidded eyes. He wanted- fuck, he wanted Robb so badly. His heart was warm and light in his chest as he looked down at his boyfriend, those pretty auburn curls atop his head and his soft pink lips against his skin. He reached down, giving his ass a little squeeze before going to work at removing his own pants.

But Robb batted his hands away. "Let me," he said, sliding his hands down Theon's hips to the waistband of his jeans. As he eased them off, he marked down Theon's chest. Wrapping his lips around a nipple, he teased it while he tossed Theon's pants aside and worked on removing his boxers.

Theon gasped softly and couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of Robb’s mouth on one of his sensitive nipples. He whimpered, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “Robb, please...”

"Please?" he murmured, pulling away. His fingers trailed over Theon's belly, just barely touching where Theon wanted him to be. "So soon? I haven't even started yet, Thee."

“I haven’t had you inside me in so long.” Theon whined, shivering a tiny bit at the gentle touches on his belly. “I want you. I-I can’t explain it, how much I love you, how much I trust you, fuck. You make me feel so safe, Robb, so safe and happy,” He was getting emotional, so he let out a tiny little giggle and let his head fall back on the pillow.

Robb moaned low in his throat, seizing the moment to kiss at Theon's throat, marking him up. His one hand slid down to Theon's thigh and he pulled it up, spreading his legs wider to fit between them. Their cocks brushed together and Robb thrust his hips against Theon's, groaning. He was ready, gods yes, but he wanted to tease Theon a little more. He wanted to explore him.

Theon wrapped his legs around Robb’s waist, pulling him closer, precome dribbling from the head of his cock. “Want you so bad,” he whimpered, bucking his hips up so his cock hit against Robb’s once again.

"Yeah," Robb panted. He rolled his hips again and Theon's head tipped to the side, lips parted. Robb leaned in and kissed them, long and deep and when he pulled away again Theon gasped, and his lips were swollen. One of Robb's hands went to his hips, and the other to Theon's cock.

While Robb stroked his cock, Theon reached over to the nightstand, fumbling to get the drawer open and pull out lube. “Can you- I could, but can you prep me?” He looked up at Robb, eyes wide and soft with affection, but also heavy with lust.

"Of course." He took the lube from him and popped the cap, applying a liberal amount to his fingers. Theon's legs were spread wide and waiting. He circled his hole with two fingers, watching the way Theon bit his lip, but didn't push one in yet, just teased.

“Please,” Theon pushed his hips down, trying to get one of the fingers inside him. “Don’t tease, baby, put one in, please,”

"It's so much better when you have to wait for it though, don't you?" Robb kissed the corner of his mouth, playful, and down to the edge of his jaw.

“But I want it now. I want you. I want your cock inside me, stretching me, filling me- it’s been so long since I’ve been properly fucked, Robb, please...” He pouted at him.

It was impossible to deny Theon when he make such good points. Robb pushed his first finger past the ring of muscle, inside him, and kept a careful eye on Theon for his reaction. Any sign of discomfort or panic, and he would stop.

It was vaguely uncomfortable, but Theon wanted more, wanted Robb inside him as soon as possible. He whined, pushing his hips down to get the finger further inside him, wiggling his hips. “Want you so bad,” He reached for him, playing with his soft auburn curls. “Love you so fucking much.”

"Is it good?" Robb asked him softly, moving his finger. Theon twitched around him. The second teased at his entrance, but didn't move to push in.

Theon nodded, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Robb’s cock, stroking it, appreciating the weight in his hand. “Mhm, baby, keep going. I can take another.”

The second finger eased in, sliding alongside the first, and once Theon had adjusted, Robb began to move them. Slowly, at first, as not to rush him, but surely.

"You're doing so good," Robb praised, voice low with awe. "I love you, Thee."

“I love you, too. So much.” Theon glowed at the praise, gasping softly when the two fingers began moving inside him. He spread his legs a little wider, opening himself up to Robb, exposing himself. He looked down at him, a small smile on his face.

"So perfect," he murmured, twisting the fingers inside him. He stretched him, and searched for that spot, hoping to draw a pretty little sound from him. Theon's eyes were on him, watching his movements.

“More, please, m-more, ah-!” Theon’s hips jerked, breath hitching as the two fingers brushed up against his prostate, then pushed up against it. His eyes rolled back, running his tongue over his lips and then biting softly at his lower one to keep from moaning too loudly again.

All day long, Robb could watch Theon in the throes of pleasure. It sent heat coiling in his lower belly, and his cock twitched at the sight. He probed the fingers deeper, rubbing that little spot and watching Theon react.

"Ready for a third?" he asked.

“Yes please.” He nodded eagerly, gasping again as those two fingers probed against his prostate. He wanted Robb’s cock, but his fingers would do until he was properly stretched. “Hurry.”

"So needy," he teased, and kissed him again. He could never get enough of this, never be bored of touching and kissing Theon. Robb's ring finger eased in, and the three fingers stretched and prepped his hole while Theon moaned.

“Fuck, Robb, I want-“ Theon cut off and kissed Robb again, letting his eyes fall shut as their lips moved together. The three fingers were a bit uncomfortable, but he didn’t mind- he knew the discomfort would fade soon, and then Robb would be inside him.

"Want what?" Robb murmured, not quite pulling away. His fingers pushed deep, hit that spot, and he felt Theon's cock twitch against him.

He fucking mewled, bucking his hips, softly nibbling at Robb’s lower lip. “Your cock, in me, please- I can take it, I can, please,”

"Are you sure?" Theon was still so tight, and Robb wasn't sure exactly the last time he had been... "I just don't want to hurt you, Thee. We can take it slow."

“I’ll tell you if I need you to slow down, or to stop. I promise, I swear it, just please put your cock in me.” He begged.

"O—Okay." He was embarrassingly nervous, as though he was the one about to be penetrated. But Robb had liked that, liked it a lot. With a slick sound, Robb pulled his fingers from Theon's hole and began to lube up his straining cock.

Theon eyed his cock greedily, whining at the loss of the fingers and lifting his hips to expose himself to Robb as much as possible. “Want you so bad, cmon, hurry...”

Robb had to chuckle. His Thee was so eager, so cute... He lined up with Theon's hole, took Theon's hand in his own, and began to ease inside.

Yes, fuck, yes- Robb’s cock felt good, even if it was a bit of a stretch, a bit of burning discomfort. It was Robb, who loved him, who he loved, and he squeezed his hand a little as he pushed in. Not Ramsay. Robb. The last time he’d been fucked it had been Ramsay, but he wouldn’t let that bastard be the last person to fuck him. He wouldn’t let him have that claim over him. No- he was Robb’s, and Robb was his, and it was love. He was in love.

“Fuck,” Theon whined, wiggling his hips a little to adjust.

Robb groaned softly, pausing to allow Theon several moments to adjust before pushing in the rest of the way. His hips bumped Theon's. He was all the way inside him, for the second time but the first time being sober. Robb stared down at Theon with complete adoration.

"Okay?" he asked, just to double check.

“Mm, yes. Yes.” Theon nodded, staring back up at him for a moment before reaching up, tangling his fingers in his curls, and pulling him down for a kiss. He felt so good, so full, so... loved.

Theon's lips were warm, soft, and Robb could kiss them all day long. He shifted slightly within Theon, not quite moving yet, and let out a soft sound as Theon clenched around him.

“You can move, baby, you can move.” Theon whispered, grinding his hips down, whimpering at the feeling of Robb’s cock shifting inside him. It didn’t hurt- there was still a little discomfort, but mostly he just felt full, and there was a happy little fluttering in his heart every time he looked into his boyfriend’s pretty, bright blue eyes.

He moved slow, not wanting to hurt him. As he thrust in, he looked into Theon's eyes, relishing every reaction, every little twitch.

"Gods, Thee," he whispered. "I love you. I tell you all the time, but I never get tired of it. You're perfect, every bit of you."

“I- I love you too,” Theon, arms moved to wrap around Robb’s torso, hands resting on his strong back. “You can go faster. Please.” He wanted more, more of Robb, more of the pleasure that was bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.

"Are you sure?" Robb asked, brow knitted with worry, but he did. Not too much, but he picked up his pace enough for Theon to let out a soft gasp, and his legs wrapped loosely around Robb's waist.

“I’m not porcelain, Robb. I won’t break into pieces, I prom- promise- ah, fuck!” Theon yelped as Robb’s cock brushed past his prostate, so close but not enough. He wanted to be fucked harder, wanted Robb to claim him, because even if he was Robb’s, he was still himself. He was still Theon, and loved for being Theon. And not only was he Robb’s, but Robb was his... he loved him so much he feared his heart might explode in his chest, and he felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he looked at his boyfriend- so beautiful, so sweet and loving.

There it is, Robb thought, and he thrust into the spot again, harder this time. Theon whined helplessly, looking at him like he held the stars.

"Fuck," he groaned, moving faster. "Tight, Thee..."

“I-I love you so much, so much, so much-“ Theon rambled, breaking off into a moan. He felt vaguely overwhelmed with love and pleasure and affection, bucking his hips up to meet each perfectly-aimed thrust, his cock achingly hard and leaking precome. Fuck, he loved Robb. He loved him. How could he have ever thought he loved Ramsay? Ramsay felt nothing like Robb, ever, even when Theon was happy with him.

"Fuck," he murmured again, dipping his head down to kiss Theon. He fucked harder into him, feeling the heat of him, Theon's muscles quivering around his cock. "I love you. I love you."

“Y-yes baby, fuck me, fuck-“ He moaned into the kiss, small tears creeping from the corners of his eyes. He loved Robb so much. So, so, so much. He loved his scent, his voice, his soft lips and pretty face.

Robb pulled away from the kiss, drawing in a sharp breath. His eyes slipped shut as he rolled his hips and drove into Theon, giving him every inch of himself. Theon, who had to be the love of his life, so good to him, so caring... Perfect. That was the best word to describe him. He was so perfect, his sweet Thee.

“I’m close,” Theon whimpered, his hips bucking and back arching with each thrust. Robb felt so good pounding into him, fucking him so well, and the way he looked at him... “Fuck, is it- is it good for you?”

"Yeah," Robb panted, biting his lip. His hand trailed from Theon's hip to near the base of his cock, tantalizingly close before edging away again. It settled on the mattress beside Theon's head, and with the other hand Robb hiked Theon's hips up off the bed, letting himself fuck deeper into him.

Theon cried out at the new angle, the new depth, the feeling of Robb’s cock pressing impossibly deeper inside him. “I-I’m gonna- soon, Robb, gonna come soon- fuck-“ He was holding back, not wanting to finish too quickly, but his cock was twitching and throbbing and he was clenching tightly around Robb’s.

"Come for me, baby," Robb coaxed, not touching him but fucking into his prostate as Theon clenched around him. One dragging thrust had Theon moaning out his name. "I love you, my Thee."

“Y-yours- yours-“ Theon whimpered in agreement, and then he was crying out Robb’s name as his hips bucked and jerked, splatters of come landing on his belly, gasping out ‘I love you’s. He was in heaven, white spots in his vision as his eyes rolled back, the intense pleasure in the pit of his stomach spreading warmth through his whole body.

Theon was his, and he was Theon's. Because of him, the pleasure Robb was able to give him, Theon was in the best kind of pieces, a beautiful wreck. He was hot and tight around him, and just the sight of Theon coming undone was enough to bring Robb to the edge. He thrust faster, breath panting out harsh, gazing down at Theon's face with hooded eyes.

“Come in me,” Theon pleaded, voice cracking, weak from the force of his orgasm. “Want you to fill me up, baby, p-please.” His hips continued to weakly twitch as he rode out the last surges of his orgasm.

"Theon," Robb moaned helplessly. "Gods..." With one final thrust, he spilled deep within him. His eyelids fluttered shut again, lips parting.

It felt brilliant, and Theon’s cock gave a pathetic little twitch as a tiny drop of excess come dribbled out. He waited until Robb had somewhat recovered from his orgasm before gently guiding his boyfriend down to lay on the bed beside him, facing him, chests pressed together and cock still inside.

“I love you.” He murmured, nosing at the nape of his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and soap.

"Love you too," Robb said sleepily. He kissed him, soft and slow, and made no move to pull out. Theon hadn't for a reason, he figured, so he merely shifted against him and wrapped his arms around Theon, holding him close.


	76. Chapter 76

They had left Winterfell and travelled to the edge of Westeros, intent on escaping to Essos. That hadn't happened yet. Now, they were in a dingy little town called Mole's Town, best known for the prostitutes on every street corner. Authotities didn't come here. The sex industry was the only thing bringing any money into Mole's Town, so here they had the dirtiest whores, willing to do anything.

One such whore lay panting in the bed beside him, bruises on her pretty neck. She threw him an appreciative look, sated as she was, and moved to straddle him again. He waved her off, and rose from the bed to light a cigarette by the window. He could feel her eyes on his back and naked ass as he moved, and it almost made him smirk. Still, he resigned to ignore her until she took the message with the money on the bedside table, and left. As he smoked and waited, he didn't hear the sound of the mattress squeak or the door creak open. Minutes passed.

Burnt out cigarette stub in hand, he turned on his heel. The whore was sat up, still watching him. The makeup around her eyes was smeared and her lipstick was smudged, but she still looked damn good. If he wasn't in the mood he was in, he would definitely take her for another ride, but he was, so...

"That's all," he said brusquely. "You can go."

In the corner, the dog stirred.

"Oh, but hun—" her eyes slid down the front of his body, "—I think ya could still go again. Free of charge, cause I like ya so much." She lay back and spread her legs, showing off that pretty little bush of damp black curls, pink pussy glistening with her own juices. He watched as his own seed dripped from her. His cock twitched.

"No," he declined, "but I'll give you a call, if I'm still in town tomorrow." He wouldn't be. She pouted at him with full, painted pink lips, and he inclined his head. In the corner, the dog lifted her head. Amber eyes gleamed in the dim light filtering through the window. The prostitute eyed her nervously.

"She doesn't like strangers," he added helpfully. The girl nodded slowly and stood, gathering her filmy dress and slipping it back on. Her eyes dragged over his body one last time, wistful, before she seized the money and swept from the room.

Skinner let out a deep sigh and returned to bed, falling back against the mattress. The bedsheets were damp and reeked of sex, but that wouldn't be his problem after tonight. The pillow was soft and plush, at least, so he threw the duvet over the sheets and lay on that instead. Maude rose to her paws and leaped onto the bed beside him, resting her chin on her paws and staring intently at him.

"I don't have any treats for you, girl," he said, stroking her ears. "Wasn't able to grab any. Sorry, girl." She keened but shut her eyes, seemingly resigning herself to sleep. Skinner wished he could do the same.

Four days. Four damned days, it had been, and he wondered how much longer he would have to do it for. Ben assured him they would figure something out, them and Luton and Grunt, the only ones to escape. Not that Grunt would be much help in planning, but he was good with the dirty work. Luton was clever and quick-witted. Ben was seasoned. As for Skinner himself? Well. He was Skinner. That said enough, he felt.

But Damon was Damon, and the other side of the bed felt empty without him. He felt like a damned lonely housewife, thinking that, but it was true. It had been years since he had had to sleep alone, whether in the company of Damon or some nameless prostitute. He had tried that, though, and the girls just felt wrong. Sure, they felt good around his cock and they cried out and moaned nicely when he fucked them, but not in the way Damon had. They felt wrong, moaned wrong, smelled wrong. The way they said his name was wrong, and the way they looked at him when he said his name was Skinner? That, too, was wrong.

He hated it all. He hated how much he missed Damon, with sharp driving pains in his chest and a gross prickling in his eyes. What was that about, anyways? He didn't know, and didn't even really care. He just wanted Damon back. He wanted him back beside him with that sneering grin, his snarky retorts and eternal amusement and the glee he found in everything. At the moment, Damon was likely sitting in a cell, hopefully with Ramsay, hopefully thinking of Skinner the same way Skinner was thinking of him. Probably not. Damon was never one to fall victim to these awful, fuzzy thoughts Skinner was having. He wished they would go away. They were annoying.

He turned over so he didn't have to see Maude laying where Damon ought to have been. Anger stirred in his gut, aimed towards the kid. Theon Greyjoy. His face pictured in Skinner's mind, and he found himself wishing that he had done more damage. Gods, he should have skinned that bastard's fucking face. He couldn't have kept his damn mouth shut? Nothing they did was that bad— kid was still alive, wasn't he? Alive enough to condemn Damon to living hell. He hated him. He should have been crueller with the kid, should have gone with Ramsay to get him back. They all should have gone.

If they had gone, they could be home now, but... Even so, they would have had to move. The Starks would have known, and none of Roose's paltry protection would have saved them. If only the kid had never escaped. He should have died on the hunt, like all the old toys and broken things before him. If he had, they wouldn't be in this mess.

But would he kill him now, given the chance? Skinner pondered this. The answer he didn't exactly know. It wouldn't help Damon at all, besides to bring a smile to his face, and Ramsay would flay Skinner. That was a definite. So no, likely not. He had more self-preservation than that. Still, a man could dream. And he would dream, but not just of killing Theon Greyjoy.

In the morning, they left for Essos. In Essos, they would regroup and plan, and figure out what to do next. If, gods forbid, Essos was equally dangerous, they would go next to Dorne. In time, they would return, and Skinner would get Damon back. They would get Ramsay back. Maybe, they would get revenge.

* * *

 

Damon fucking hated the holding cell. Or, rather, jail cell. They weren’t exactly in a holding cell anymore. He had none of his hair products, none of his moisturizers, none of his clothes, and... no Skinner.

He should’ve gone to walk the dogs with Skinner and Ben Bones, but how the fuck was he supposed to know? Everything was fine and then there were suddenly flashing lights and loud voices and he was fighting, being grabbed and pushed and tased and he remembered being so fucking angry. And Ramsay, fucking Ramsay, wasn’t even apologetic. It was his fucking fault that they were all stuck in jail now, awaiting trail. But neither Yellow Dick not Sour Alyn had anyone to miss outside.

Fuck, he missed him. Missed the constant look of indifference on his face, that gleam in his pretty green eyes that was there only when he looked at Damon- and no one else. Missed lying in bed beside him, facing him, committing every detail of his face to memory. Missed playing with his spider bite lip rings when they kissed- or with the Prince Albert on his cock when they fucked. The softness of his sandy blonde hair. How well he handled a knife- and how well he handled Damon’s body.

Fuck. His heart was aching and weighed heavily in his chest. It wasn’t new, the thing between him and Skinner, but they’d never put a label on it, never said the words people like that normally said, and he was starting to regret it. I love you. Would he ever see Skinner again? Would he ever watch his pretty hands hold a blade again- or hold his own?

He was going soft. Skinner probably didn’t even give a shit- always so indifferent, so relaxed. He couldn’t imagine Skinner was lying awake at night thinking of Damon- not like how Damon was lying awake now thinking about him. He hadn’t slept without his warmth beside him in months, years, even. But there was no one to share his bed now, his tiny, uncomfortable prison bed. He groaned and rolled over, pushing his face against the mattress. Everything was going so well until Ramsay decided to hunt the kid, until Ramsay decided to go after him to the Stark’s house in the middle of the night. Where was Skinner? Where was his lover now? He hadn’t been caught, no, they’d know if he had. Roose couldn’t get them out, but he got Ramsay and Damon to be able to share a cell. It was the best they’d get for now.

He cursed, though it was muffled by the pillows, cursed because it was the only fucking thing he could do while he sat and wait and rotted in a cell. What if they got the death penalty? Theon knew for sure of one kill, and another he’d witnessed himself. And then there was everything that had been done to him firsthand. The rapes, the whippings, beatings, starvation. The way he’d been chained and imprisoned in a basement for months. Damon couldn’t argue that Theon had been kept in less than human conditions. Treated as less than human. He was Ramsay’s pet, his bitch, his fuck toy. He was treated as such because it was true, he was less than human. He couldn’t believe Ramsay’s bitch had gotten them stuck in jail. If anything, they should be rewarded for keeping such a pathetic thing locked up away from the rest of society.

“What’re you bitching about up there?” Ramsay’s voice came from the bottom bunk.

“You.” Damon grumbled back, then lifted his head. Skinner. Sleeping alone for the first time in forever without his moody whatever-he-was at his side. His Skinner. “Why the fuck did you have to break in? Look what’s fucking happened. You knew it wouldn’t work, and now we’re fucking stuck in here, and Skinner-“

“That’s what you’re mad about?” Ramsay snapped, interrupting. Damon swallowed the lump in his throat. “Really? Are you two really that close?”

“Yes, dumbass! Are you really so self absorbed that you didn’t notice? We fuck. We fuck all the time. I fucking love him.” He said it before he could think about what he was saying, and he went wide-eyed with surprise.

“You love him.”

“Fuck off.” Damon snapped.

“You love him.”

“At least I didn’t get us thrown in jail because of him.”

Ramsay practically growled, and when Damon peeked down over the edge of the bed, he was looking back up at him with rage written all over his face, but he quickly changed his expression to one of indifference. “Whatever. My father will get us out of this anyway.”

“Will he?”

What if they got the death penalty? What if he never saw Skinner again? Would he get old and ugly in jail? Skinner couldn’t visit him, not without basically turning himself in. He’d always had Skinner by his side, friend or more than friend, ever since they were kids. They lived in the same shitty apartment building, falling asleep to the sound of gunshots at night and waking up to screaming each morning. Bodies showed up on the street corners all the time. He and Skinner had bonded- Skinner’s single mother ignored her son almost completely, doing only what she had to, while both of Damon’s parents pretended he didn’t exist. He’d talk to them and they wouldn’t even blink an eye. He could scream at them and they wouldn’t so much as glance his way. He ate at Skinner’s house every night, as his mom at least bought her kid food.

Being on his own his whole childhood taught him a lot. How to manipulate. How to sneak around. How to get away with anything, but none of that was helping him now.

“Are you crying?”

Damon hadn’t realized there were tears on his cheeks until Ramsay pointed it out. He quickly wiped them away, looking furiously down at his friend. “No. Fuck off.”

“Does Damon Dance-For-Me have a weakness?”

“Fuck off!” Damon snapped. He missed Skinner. He wanted Skinner, he’d never been without him. They’d been inseparable practically all their lives. He had never gone this long without him at his side.

“Might wanna be careful, Damon. In here, that pretty face and girly body may become another weakness.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’d make a good prison bitch, Damon, and you better hope the other guys in here are scared enough of me to stay away from you.”

Damon wanted to slap Ramsay across the face, but instead he just moved fully back onto his bunk and turned to face the wall in silence. Prison bitch. As if. The only person he’d ever bottom for was Skinner, and Skinner was... not there.

“I’m serious, Damon.” He could hear Ramsay standing up and could soon feel his eyes on him. “You’d better hope people are scared of me, or you’ll be torn to shreds. This isn’t outside. This is prison. You’ve got pretty long hair and a fucking bubble butt, for gods’ sake. You’re literally a twink.”

“I can protect my fucking self.”

“You’re great on a hunt and great with a whip, but you don’t have that whip now, do you? Are you even a hundred forty pounds? Hundred thirty? You could be held down easy.”

“Shut up!”

“You better stop mouthing off to me or I’ll pass you off to get gang raped and see what I can get from the other guys for letting them have your ass-“

“Shut the fuck up!” Damon sat up, glaring daggers down at Ramsay. “We haven’t even been sentenced yet, for one, and second- don’t you dare fucking threaten me. What’s wrong with you? I’m your best fucking friend.”

“Don’t bitch at me for breaking in to take back my property then. We may be friends, but I don’t appreciate the disrespect.”

“Disre- are you fucking-?” Damon stared at him incredulously. “We’re in prison because you were careless. Can you not see that? Do you really not see that this happened because you carelessly broke into the Stark house in the middle of the night when everyone was home?” Ramsay opened his mouth to talk, but Damon spoke over him. “No, I- fucking- listen. We can’t be fucking fighting here. We need to support each other. That means not fucking threatening to pimp me out. I just want to get out of here.”

“And back to Skinner.” Ramsay added, but there was no real malice in his tone anymore. The anger was mostly gone from his face, and he just looked tired. “Do you really love him.”

“Fuck off. Love. I hate that word.” Damon grumbled. “I’ve had him at my side my whole life.”

“Not anymore.”

“No.” Damon agreed. “Not anymore.”


	77. Chapter 77

June third. In nineteen days, they would graduate, and try to figure out what to do with the rest of their lives. Now, though, they walked up the gleaming marble steps of the Winterfell City Courthouse, hand in hand, dressed to their most presentable standards. Robb's mother walked behind them, solemn faced, escorting the kids. Sansa slipped up the steps to walk alongside Theon, and Jon and Ygritte appeared on Robb's other side.

"Theon. Today's just the opening statements," Sansa said anxiously. "So, if you want to leave, you could. That's what Mom said."

“Okay. I think I’ll be fine.” He gave her a small smile and squeezed Robb’s hand a little tighter. He wasn’t ready to see Ramsay again, to see those piercing blue eyes... he shivered a little just thinking about it.

"I know you will. You're strong, Theon," she said seriously. Then she offered him a small smile and took his other hand. "You're brave. I believe in you." She looked up at the building, eyes reflecting the sunlight. "This time tomorrow, we'll all be in school, and Ramsay Bolton will be in a cell, only leaving to come to court, and he'll never walk free again."

“Thank you, Sansa.” He gave her hand a tiny squeeze as well as they walked into the building. They had to go through security, each walking through a metal detector, and then Theon realized he had no idea where to go next.

"This way," Catelyn said, leading them down a hallway to the right and towards a flight of handsome wooden stairs. She took the elevator with Bran and Rickon. Upstairs was a waiting room, where they all filed in and sat around the table. She wheeled Bran in and sat heavily in the chair nearest the door.

"They'll come and get us when it's time," she said. "This is better than waiting in the courtroom, I promise. Now, first, there's no phones or electronics to be in there. I know that's obvious, but," she shrugged. "No talking, please, as long as you can help it. If you must say something, please whisper. Theon..." She turned a serious gaze on him. "He will be there, you know."

“I know.” Theon said, nodding slowly. He kept his fingers intertwined with Robb’s, relieved that his boyfriend didn’t mind his clammy hands. “He can’t- he can’t say anything to me, can he?”

"No. He'll be kept far enough away from you, and won't even be facing you. We'll be in the back of the room, and he will be towards the middle, facing front. When they bring him in, he will see us, so he will know we're all here. He will not be able to speak to you, though."

Theon nodded, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay. Okay, good. Thank you. For being here, for- for helping me. All of you.”

Rickon scrambled over from next to Catelyn to sit on Theon’s lap instead. He clutched at Theon’s shirt, playing with the buttons. “Are we gonna see the man who cut off your fingers?”

"Rickon!" Robb reprimanded. "Don't—" He gave Theon a helpless, apologetic look. "Sorry, Thee. I can take him, if you want?"

“No, it’s okay. He’s okay.” Theon laughed a little, patting Rickon’s head. “Yes, Rickon. We’re gonna see the man who cut off my fingers. Maybe he’ll give them back.”

Rickon gasped, looking at him with wide eyes. “Could he? Could you put them back on?”

“Sure, if you let me borrow some tape.”

The door opened, and a wizened older man peered in. "Starks? I suggest you all come in, now."

Catelyn nodded, rising again and taking Bran's wheelchair. Robb took Theon's hand, and Rickon onto his hip, and they filed out of the room and just down the hall to the courtroom. The jury was filtering in, filling the twelve seats, and the judge's bench was empty. Several members of the defense were present, and several of the prosecution. Two were murmuring to each other, looking solemn.

They sat on the uncomfortable benches, silenced their phones, and stowed them away. Robb glanced over at Theon, smiling encouragingly. Rickon clambered onto Robb's lap and sat there, clutching at his button-up shirt.

They waited in silence for a while, exactly how long they didn't know, as more people began to join them in the benches and more of the defense came in. The lawyer for the prosecution entered, spoke briefly with Catelyn with many glances towards Theon, and strode away to join his fellows. Once, the door opened and Yara rushed in, looked wildly through the benches, and when she spotted Theon she forced her way through and sat beside him, between him and Sansa.

"You're okay?" He merely nodded, and she did the same. "Good. Good. This is it, baby brother. Getting revenge." She patted his arm and looked out over the courtroom, surveying the jury and studying each of their faces. "They look like fair men and women."

Theon made a noncommittal sound, looking down at his feet, and Robb squeezed the hand he still held. The doors opened once more, and a small cluster of people stood in the doorway. They moved in, and it became clear that they were prison guards.

With them, they bore Ramsay and Damon, and Sour Alyn and Yellow Dick. The four of them were escorted past the benches, Ramsay smirking over at Theon and the Starks, and were headed towards where they were to sit, near the defense. Bedraggled and sullen, they all wore cuffs and frowns. An eerie silence fell over the courtroom, before the back door beside the jury station opened and in walked the judge. He moved along to sit at the judge's bench, and rifled through the sheaf of papers awaiting him. After a minute, he cleared his throat and took up the gavel. It was beginning.

* * *

 

Theon was silent the whole ride home.

Ramsay had looked at him. He’d said nothing to him, of course, but he looked at him as if he were still in power. He was, in a way- he was part of Theon, the trauma he put him through becoming part of him. The whole time he was in that room, he could feel his gaze, like ice clinging to his skin. Then there was Damon, who he’d never seen without a smile- and he didn’t so much as grin even once during the trial. He should’ve been happy to see that, but it just unnerved him.

Every time he looked at Ramsay, he could feel his hands on him. He could feel them in his hair, cupping his face, tracing down his chest, could feel his knife carving into his skin. He hurried with Robb to his room once they got home, thanking the other Starks again quickly. Once alone with Robb, he let himself break down a bit, throwing his arms around his boyfriend and letting out a small sob.

"Shhh," Robb soothed. It was all he could do to just hold Theon, let him cry and break down in his arms. He only wished he could tell him that it would be okay, that he would never have to see Ramsay or those boys ever again, that he could stop going to the trial if he wished, but he couldn't. Theon couldn't. In order for this to go anywhere, Theon had to testify as witness, had to speak of what had been done to him like some grotesque parody of show and tell. For him to do that, though... Robb knew it was going to be hard.

"Soon," he promised. "It'll be over soon."

“He still looks at me like he owns me.” Theon whimpered, words muffled from how his face was hidden against Robb’s chest. Even after hours in a courthouse, Robb smelt like his stupid Grey Mists soap. Theon breathed in deeply, taking in the comforting scent. He clung to him like a child to its mother, as if he never planned on letting go.

"He's wrong. You're your own, you don't belong to anybody," Robb said. He kissed the top of his head, those dirty blond locks that were growing back so prettily, and wrapped his arms around Theon's trembling frame.

Theon loved Robb, he loved him so much he felt his heart might burst when he felt the soft kiss planted atop his head. He wished he could stay in his arms forever, lay in bed with him, play with those pretty auburn curls and trace the muscled lines of his body. He pulled away from Robb just a tiny bit, just enough so that he could nod toward the bed and he would be able to see it.

He brought him to bed, laid him down in the blankets with his head on the pillows. Grey Wind shifted sleepily, rested his head on Theon's stomach, and went on snoring. Robb sat beside him and stroked the curls back from Theon's face, smiling to himself.

“Sometimes,” Theon began, voice soft as he gazed lovingly up at his boyfriend. “When I see you, I wonder if I died in Ramsay’s basement, and was somehow good enough to end up in heaven.”

"No," Robb whispered, pausing his hand on Theon's forehead. "No, something better happened. You made it out, my strong, brave Theon, and you're with me for real. Always."

Theon smiled a little smile, his eyes still wet with tears, but the fear and distress from before had greatly decreased. “Lay with me?”

He did, and Grey Wind let out a grumble and shifted again to allow room for him. Theon snuggled up to him, and Robb pushed his hair from his forehead one last time and pressed a kiss to the soft skin.

"My perfect Thee," he murmured, loving against him.

“I never want to lay in bed without you.” Theon reached out to gently toy with Robb’s pretty curls. “I don’t know how I did it for so long. I feel like I’d die if I woke up and didn’t see your face first thing each morning.” He cracked a little grin.

"You can't do that to me," Robb said, half joking but mostly serious. "You're so important to me, to all of us. We... I can't lose you again."

“You won’t. We’ve been together all our lives, I’m not- I’m not leaving you again. Ever. You’re stuck with me.” Theon leaned in to give him a tiny kiss on the cheek.

"Good." Robb turned his head to catch Theon's lips with his own. They kissed for a moment. "With me, forever. And I'm yours. Forever."

“You gonna buy me a ring?” Theon teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Just being in Robb’s room, being with Robb- it made him feel better, feel safe.

"I will," Robb said. Theon's eyes widened and his cheeks colored. "Whenever you want me to. Whenever you're ready. I will."

“I- Robb- we- I-“ Theon sputtered. Robb would marry him? Robb would consider settling down with him one day? He looked at his boyfriend as if searching his face for some sort of indication that he was lying. He found none. “We’re still in high school, Robb. And- and there’s the whole thing with Jeyne.”

"It can wait. And, Jeyne doesn't know yet. No matter what we do, she will be okay. You know I'll support her no matter what comes of this, but I love you. Not her." He kissed him again, fiercely this time. "I love you."

“I love you too,” Theon replied once he pulled away from the kiss. He snuggled up against Robb, pressing his face to his chest, and soon drifted off to sleep.

News of Jeyne, it turned out, would come in the morning. Robb's phone rang while the pair of them dozed, and the piercing sound of it had them both jolting up. He fumbled for the phone, seized it, and saw the caller ID.

"Thee— get up, Thee, it's Jeyne."

“Hm?” Theon sat up reluctantly, stretching and rubbing his eyes. “Grey or Red?” He asked sleepily.

"What? Colors? Westerling," Robb said, groggy and equally confused. He swiped to accept the call and put her on speaker.

"Robb!" rang out her excited voice. "Robb, Robb, guess what?"

"What is it?" The pregnancy test she had taken just last week had said positive, but from the sound of her voice...

"I got my period!"

"Oh. Oh! Wow! That's awesome! That's great news." Robb let out a sigh of relief, glancing over at Theon.

Theon did a weak little fist pump to show his approval, then fell back onto the pillow. “Now you can work at getting me pregnant instead.” He joked with a snort. He wasn’t sure when Queenie got on the bed, but she was there, and she crawled on top of him to lay on his stomach.

"Ooh— Hi, Theon!" Jeyne called out cheerily. "I've got to wash my sheets now, you know, so it doesn't stain! I just wanted to let you know. Bye!"

She hung up. Robb had never heard a girl so enthused about bloody sheets before. He set the phone aside and grinned at Theon, pulling him into a hug and falling back against the mattress.

"That resolved itself."

“Hey! You squished Queenie!” Theon whined, the little ball of fluff squirming up to sit on the pillow to avoid being smushed again. “I’m glad, though. About the pregnancy. For you. And Jeyne. And me.”

"Me too. Forget anything else, I don't think I'm ready to be a dad. Well, not anymore than I already am," he said, ruffling Grey Wind's fur as the dog looked up at him, indignant.

“Human dad. We’re both already doggie dads.” He leaned over to give Queenie’s fuzzy little head a smooch. “And you’re a doggie uncle to many.”

Robb was quiet for a moment, puzzling, wondering if he should...? Theon was looking up at him, green-blue eyes so vibrant and pretty, so alive like they hadn't been before. He loved him, like he had never loved anyone before and never would after. Theon had ruined him for all other people, because how could he ever love another person more? Who could ever compare?

"Someday, in the future," he began, and took Theon's hand in his. The left hand, the one with the missing fingers, and he stroked his thumb over the ring finger. "I don't think I'd mind."

“It’s a good thing I still have most of this finger.” Theon joked. There wasn’t any wavering to his voice, and he wasn’t reliving the trauma now- he was just talking about it in the same way one might discuss the weather. “He wanted to take it off so that you could never put a ring on it it, you know. I was always more yours than his, even when I thought I loved him. He could never compare to you, no matter how submissive he made me, and he hated it.”

"He wasn't worthy of you. I don't know about me, but I do try to be. You deserve the world, Thee." Robb had been talking about being a dad, not putting a ring on him, but gods he wanted that too.

“If I deserve the world, you deserve the universe. I’d do anything with you. Get married, have kids-“ Theon’s face flushed. “In the future, I mean.”

"Yeah," Robb said hurriedly. His cheeks matched Theon's. "Way in the future." They were quiet for a bit. "I love you. So much."

“I love you too.” They’d only been together for a little while, but Theon had loved him for so long, even before he realized it himself. He imagined what it would be like to marry him. For the kids who’d always been like little brothers and sisters to him to actually become his brothers and sisters. To officially be part of the family he’d spent his whole life wishing to be. Robb has once told him that, somewhere far back on his family tree, there was a Theon Stark. He remembered being excited, going home and telling his father- and being slapped and told that he was not a Stark, and he’d best stop pretending to be one. His father didn’t hit him often- it was rare, really- but he did that night.

If they married, would Theon take Robb’s last name? Yara and his mother were the only things that made him care for the Greyjoy name- but his mother was technically a Harlaw-Greyjoy. She was only partly connected to the name. His whole childhood he’d been told by his father and brothers that he was unworthy of the Greyjoy name, and yet here he was. Alive, when they were all six feet underground. What is dead may never die, his father used to say, but he knew his father and brothers would not rise again harder and stronger. He had. He’d lost himself in Ramsay’s basement, becoming his nameless, worthless pet- and he’d come out of it, risen again. After everything he’d been told about being weak, he was the one who rose up from what was practically his death.

“I love you so much.”


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that westerosi legal proceedings aren’t going to exactly mirror those of anywhere in our world and also,,, we writers don’t know much abt the law. Pls excuse us for the next few chapters

June tenth. 

Robb sat in the witness box, staring out at the faces before him with a sort of cool nonchalance he didn't think he could be feeling right now. This was for Theon. All for Theon. Yara and Sansa, both having already testified, sat in the benches. Ramsay Bolton and his three captured boys all stared at him with heat in their eyes. He ignored them. The prosecution lawyer was pacing, speaking, and Ramsay Bolton's eyes were boring into him. It was hard to ignore him. 

"What exactly is your relation to Theon Greyjoy?" the lawyer, Locke, was saying. Ramsay's lawyer. 

"He's my best friend, since we were kids. And—"

"And?" the lawyer interrupted, raising his eyebrow. 

"And," Robb went on, annoyed, "my boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend," the lawyer repeated, voice flat. "Mr. Stark, is your boyfriend not an alleged victim of assault?"

"He is."

"So you don't see a problem with engaging in a romantic, and sexual, relationship with somebody who has just left a supposedly abusive relationship?" 

"No?" Robb gave him a look. Seriously? 

"You don't?" The lawyer turned his incredulous gaze out to the jurors. "Could it not be said that you are also taking advantage of him, in this weak mental state he is clearly in?" 

Robb opened his mouth to retort, but the prosecution lawyer beat him to it. 

"Objection!" called out district attorney Olenna Tyrell. Robb thanked the gods that she, of all people, was Theon's lawyer. "Relevance?"

"I'll allow it. The witness will answer the question," the judge ordered. 

"No. I'm not... Theon and I love each other. We have for such a long time," Robb said, "since before all of this. Boundaries are discussed, and we both consent to everything we do."

"Do you have proof of this consent?"

"Really! His relationship with Theon Greyjoy is not what's on trial!" Olenna cried out. 

"Ms. Tyrell, if you do not contain yourself..." the judge warned. However, he too seemed agitated. "Mr. Locke, try and keep your questions relevant to the case."

"I promise you, sir. I'm getting there." Locke sent Olenna a sly look, and glanced back at Ramsay. Robb grit his teeth, shifted in his seat, and prepared himself. "Do you have evidence of this consent?"

"No," he bit out. "I do not."

"Couldn't it be said, then, that Theon Greyjoy consented to everything in his relationship with my client?"

"No, he couldn't have!"

"But if you don't have proof... If Mr. Bolton doesn't have proof, you're really just on equal footing here. Aren't you? Theon Greyjoy could very well be just an ex-boyfriend who regretted some foolhardy decisions and doesn't want to face the consequences!"

"He didn't consent! He was tortured!" Robb shouted, rising out of his seat. Locke smirked at him and to several paces away. 

"But you don't have proof." There was a short, tense silence in the courtroom. "None of you have proof."

"No," Robb said, slowly sitting back down. He clenched fists in his lap and stared down at them. He could feel the eyes of them all—the lawyers, the judge, the jury, the people in the stands—and their stares were hot and itchy. What if he messed up? What if he screwed Theon over? 

"Ther—"

"I don't have proof, but I know Theon. I know him better than I know myself. He... He wasn't in a good mental state, at the time, and that was my fault. I'll admit that. But he still... He wouldn't have wanted that to happen to him. He didn't know what he was getting into, and I tried to warn him but he was angry with me. We were both angry, and foolish, and it got out of control. Ramsay Bolton took advantage of him in this state, groomed him, and hurt him. He broke him. I... We, I mean, Yara, Sansa, and I, had to piece him back together. If you had seen him then... That went far beyond consent of any kind. Nobody consents to be treated like that. Nobody consents to be whipped and raped and cut to little pieces, like worthless old meat. They didn't even treat him like a human. Just... An animal. Sansa said... She told you that they dressed him like a dog. He had bruises all over him from chains. Who consents to that?"

Locke has watched him silently throughout his entire interruption, a careful smirk toying at his lips. "Some people are into some very interesting things, Mr. Stark."

"But not Theon."

"But not Theon..." Locke echoed. "Do you know this, on a personal level? Has he told you all his deepest desires?"

"He told me he was assaulted. He told me he was raped. I'd believe Theon's word over Ramsay Bolton's, any day."

"Why is that? What exactly is your relationship with Ramsay Bolton?" 

"I knew him when we were kids. He was a fucked up kid, and used to beat on my friend Talisa. She had stomach cancer, and he liked to jab her in the stomach with sticks and things. But he lived in Weeping Water, and only visited his dad in Winterfell on weekends."

"So you are previously biased against him."

"No. I know what he is like as a person. He's sick, he's cruel, he takes pleasure in hurting others... Seven hells, he's admitted to all the other charges! He's only denying Theon! What does that say for him? He's ready to admit he's a murderer, a rapist, but not an abuser?"

"Because it's not true," Ramsay drawled. They all turned to look at him.

"Mr. Bolton. You are not to speak right now," the judge warned. 

"I didn't abuse him," Ramsay went on, speaking over him. "My little p—Theon was so eager in everything we did, I can't help if he got bruised up. But I didn't abuse him. He loved every second of it." His tongue trailed over his teeth, visibly recalling the finer moments, and settled back in his seat. 

"Mr. Bolton! Do not speak again! This is your warning."

"Mr. Stark," Locke continued, brushing aside what had just happened. "Did you have this attitude towards Mr. Bolton before Theon Greyjoy ever interacted with him?"

"Yes," Robb admitted. "That's why I tried to warn him to stay away."

"What exactly did you know about him?"

"I knew him as a kid. I knew him from rumors, after he grew up. I knew about his Bastard's Boys, and to stay away from the Dreadfort because that's where they hung out. He was rumored to steal girls away in the night and they would never be seen again. I didn't believe those, until now. It seemed like a stupid Boogeyman story. I know that, no matter what was said about him, there was never any evidence. He couldn't be caught. And he had dogs, massive ones, that were just as bad as him."

"So, you tried to warn Theon Greyjoy based on these rumors?"

"And personal experience. Yes."

"And it didn't work?"

"Clearly not," Robb snapped, glaring at Locke. The lawyer sneered at him. 

"How hard did you try?" 

"Wha— what does that have to do with this?" 

"Just answer the question, Mr. Stark," the judge said tiredly. 

"I tried every single day. Not just me, my brother Jon too. My mother. He didn't want to listen."

"Therefore, it could be interpreted that he didn't want to be rescued?" Locke proposed. "That there was nothing to rescue him from, because he was engaging in a perfectly consensual, happy relationship?"

"No! I'm sure, at the time, that Bolton was nice to him. He would have had to be, to get Theon to trust him. But Theon was mad at me. That's why he didn't listen."

"And why exactly was he mad at you, Mr. Stark?"

"I... We slept together. New Year's Eve. I felt so guilty afterwards, I didn't want to see him. I felt like I had taken advantage of him, and we were both in such a bad state at the time. I didn't think it was the right time for it, and I needed time to think. I pushed him away, and I regret that now. I didn't mean for... this."

"Oh, of course you didn't. Who could ever mean for their loved one to be raped?" Locke shuffled some papers. "It's a good thing that's not what happened, isn't it?"

"It did happen. Theon wouldn't lie about it. I've seen the wounds, seen the scars... I've seen him cry over it, at night when he thinks I'm asleep. He's not okay. He won't be for a long time. That... Liars aren't like that. They aren't affected like that, that's all truth."

"I have to say, Mr. Stark, I admire your faith in a boy from that background."

Robb glared icily at him, and Locke looked steadily back. Finally, he turned away and fetched new papers off his table. Robb used this moment of break to look up and look at Sansa and his mother. Jon, Ygritte, and Yara, too. The kids only came for the first day; none of them needed to hear this. They all looked just as infuriated with Locke as he was. He had been told that Sansa, and Yara of course, had been given the same sort of snide treatment. Yara had almost climbed over the table to attack Locke when he implied that Theon had run away to Ramsay to escape her and the others, but Robb knew the words had cut her deep. She, of course, responded to such pain with fury, but it seemed to work for her. She was still visibly seething. Sansa, however, merely looked distressed. She'd said that Locke hadn't given her as hard of a time, given that her role was mostly nursing Theon's wounds. Even Officer Tarth, who testified on her role in the case, had been harassed and called negligent. Locke had jumped on Theon's lies to her and sweet act with Ramsay, calling that the pre-regrets stage. That had had rage steaming in Robb's gut again. 

"Mr. Stark," Locke said suddenly, turning back to him. "You said you slept with Theon Greyjoy on New Year's Eve? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but... That was the same day as your father's funeral, was it not? Poor taste." Locke clucked his tongue, shook his head. Robb said nothing. "When Theon Greyjoy came to you, after he 'escaped'," he put air quotes here, "what did you do?" 

"The first or the second time?"

"Both."

"I... I didn't have much time to do anything, really." Robb shifted in his seat, suddenly very uncomfortable. "I only had him with me for a few hours before we went to sleep, and when I woke up he had gone again. But I did all I could to comfort him. He told me what had happened, and I tried to ease him, and think of what we could do. I didn't think he would go back."

"Didn't do much, did you?" Locke asked blithely. Robb glared down at his lap.

"I did what I could. I didn't want to push him. He was terrified, beyond stressed... I was scared to do much."

"And the second time?"

"Sansa had him for a week, I'm sure she told you. I didn't know about him until I found him—" he broke off. He wouldn't tell Locke what Theon had been doing when he found him. That was Theon's to share, if he so pleased. Robb wouldn't be the one to out him. "I found him in the bathroom, when I came home early from school one day. I don't remember the exact date," he said, glancing up almost apologetically. "But after that, I just tried to do what I could for him. I made sure he was safe, comfortable, and as happy as I could possibly make him."

"So again, not much." Locke glanced up at him, lip curled. "This whole situation just sounds like a bunch of teenagers making bad decisions. Yourself included."

"I'm sure to you, it does seem like that. You're getting paid to see it that way."

In the stands, Yara masked her laugh with a cough. Locke glared, and Robb looked coolly back at him. 

"No further questions. The defense rests." He sat back down, shuffled his papers, and at once Ramsay was leaning in and muttering to him. Olenna Tyrell rose to her feet. 

"My turn then, eh?" She had a grandmotherly kind of face that lacked the distinctive warmth Robb had come to associate with grandmothers. He hadn't known his own; they passed when he was a child. 

"Mr. Stark. Tell me, what was Theon like when you were taking care of him?" 

He was sure she had asked the same question of Sansa. He liked Tyrell better already; her questions were rounded enough that he could answer comfortably. Plus, she didn't act rudely, like Locke. 

"He had nightmares, every single day. He has these scars all over his body... Bolton carved his name into his chest, and there's whip marks all over his back. He was just... petrified, that Bolton was going to come for him. I kept promising him that he wouldn't, that he was safe. That I would protect him. And I couldn't. I promised him, but I had already failed."

Locke was rolling his eyes, and Ramsay grinned at him. Robb ignored them both, looking instead at Olenna Tyrell. She was on their side. She worked with Chief Lannister, and Officer Tarth. She was the district attorney, she was on their side... The thought was very important to him. It ran through his head, over and over. With her, Theon was going to win. He knew it.

“What was he like the first time he escaped?” Olenna said the words without any of the wicked sarcasm Locke had used.

"He called me in the middle of the night, and..." Robb shut his eyes, thinking. "His voice was shaking. I had been asleep, but... He wanted me to come get him, so I did. He sounded so bad, I didn't want to imagine what had happened. He didn't want to talk after I picked him up, just wanted to go home. All he asked for was pajamas, and his back... Gods." Robb swallowed. "His back was covered in these horrible scars, still so fresh... He said that it was punishment. No—" he shook his head, "that wasn't... That wasn't punishment. He said that wasn't from Bolton, it must have been one of his Boys, but he said that Bolton hadn't 'punished' him in a while. He said he was bad, and he deserved it."

"He was such a naughty boyfriend," Ramsay snickered. "But it was all in good fun."

"Locke! Keep him quiet!" the judge ordered. "Go on, Mr. Stark." The judge fell silent once more, watching him. Olenna stood patiently before him, face a clear mask. He couldn't decipher what she was thinking.

"He was scared, so scared, like he thought Bolton was going to leap from the shadows and seize him. He just kept saying how mad Bolton was going to be. He told me how he was kept in the basement, collared and chained. He cried and called himself Bolton's possession, said he'd hit him, and let the Boys hit him. He said the whip wounds were from Damon. Theon, he... He called Bolton master. Said that he beat him and raped him. Even then, when he was still so scared and thought Bolton loved him, he called it rape. He knew what it was.

"Theon was scared. He was beaten and bruised, with those horrible scars all down his back and his chest, and he was so scared but all he wanted was comfort and for somebody to care for him. To care about him."

“And you believe Theon has not lied to you about any of the events you’ve described? Or, rather, would he have any reason to lie about the events described?”

"He was so reluctant to tell me anything. I don't see any for him to lie. He's never lied to me before, not anything beyond little white lies, anyways. He wouldn't start now, not with this."

“I believe you, Mr. Stark.” Olenna answered simply. “I don’t have much to ask, but I will continue on with my next few questions. “Did Mr. Bolton have anything personally against you that could bring into question any accuracy in his statements?” 

"I don't understand what that has to do with Theon," Robb said slowly. 

"Humor me, then."

Robb shifted in his seat once more. To the jury, he probably looked like an antsy teenager, unable to sit still. "Yes. He... Like I said earlier, we knew each other as kids. I don't know what he has against me, exactly, but he's hated me since then." He paused, and glanced over at Ramsay. "And, he's jealous. Because of Theon. He's jealous that he's with me, and that he loved me even when they were together. He knew it, and I think that spurred a lot of his aggression to Theon."

“Did Ramsay Bolton ever say anything to you during the relationship that brought up suspicions about the purity of his intentions with Mr. Greyjoy?” 

"Yes. Bolton cornered me in school bathrooms," he said, purposely leaving out the time that he did the same to Ramsay. "He told me once that he was growing sick of playing nice. He said he was going to break him into a hundred tiny pieces." Robb looked again at Ramsay. Their eyes met, and he held the gaze. "Bolton told me that Theon would never know what it was like to be truly loved. But he was wrong." 

Olenna nodded slowly, taking in the new information. “And did you interact with Mr. Bolton at all while Theon Greyjoy was in his captivity?” 

"Yes. Numerous times. Once, he texted Yara and I a picture, of..." He grimaced. "Well, it was a nude of Theon. But Theon didn't take it, and I don't think he knew it was taken. That was after—" Robb looked away. "We went to the Bolton house. Yara and I. Just trying to see Theon. He told us that Theon didn't want to see us, and he sicced his dog on her. We, uh, went inside? Trying to rescue Theon. Theon saw us and ran away." At Olenna's raised eyebrow, he hurried on. "But Theon told me that that was because he was scared of what Ramsay would do to us, and to him, if he didn't. If he let us see him. We would have seen the bruises, if he hadn't run. And we would have taken him with us. We were both furious, and when we were leaving, Bolton sent us each the picture. 

"There was another time, too, at the dog park. Bolton was with Damon, and I was with Jon. We fought and argued, a lot. They were calling Theon an 'it', like he wasn't a person. They had told Theon that Jon and I were both dead, murdered, and that the Boys had raped Sansa and that Theon's puppy had been killed, too. They kept laughing about it. Bolton, he... He called Theon his toy, a broken toy, and they said that they weren't feeding Theon."

“And Theon’s dramatic weight loss does prove that he did not eat for some time.” Olenna confirmed. “His medical charts also indicate no signs of any eating disorders, and the only other time he has experienced such an extreme decrease in weight or nutrition was at the age of eight after his brothers’ passing. The medical examinations he endured prior to the trial gave us a chance to see this. Now for my next question. The second time Theon escaped, how did he arrive home? You’ve told us the story of his first escape- which you were the only one to know of- but what do you know of his second and final escape?” 

"Sansa was the one who found Theon, when he came home the second time. She told me that he turned up on the porch, and asked that she keep him a secret. Theon didn't want to go to a hospital, or a doctor or anything, so she is the one who took care of him. By the time I found out about him, he was recovering from his wounds and back to eating regularly. After I found him, he started to stay in my room instead of Sansa's. He was nervous. Sometimes, he asked for permission to go to the bathroom, as if I'd say no. He started to get better, after a while. He started to tell me what Bolton had done. 

"When Theon ran away, they were hunting him like an animal. Bolton, the Bastard's Boys, and the dogs. They were going to kill him. Theon told me that the dogs couldn't find him, and he got away. He ran all the way home, barefoot, just to escape."

There was sympathy on the old woman’s face as she listened, but it quickly was replaced by her normal calm, emotionless expression. “You say he didn’t want to go to the hospital. Do you know why that is?”

"Theon didn't want anybody to know what had happened to him. He was ashamed. He wasn't going to press charges at all, until the break-in. He'd thought that as long as he laid low, Bolton would stay away. He didn't want to get hurt again, or for any of us to get hurt."

“Okay. I just have one final question for you, Mr. Stark. Is there anything else you may have forgotten to say, or did not have the chance to say, that you’d like to tell us now?” 

Robb thought for a moment. Everybody's stares on him were making him hot and uncomfortable, and it was hard to think. "Yes," he said. "The day after Valentine's day, when Theon told me what had happened. Bolton raped him on Valentine's day, for the first time. Theon and I hadn't spoken in a while, outside of me trying to warn him off Bolton, but he had gone to my room. I don't know if he was hoping to find me or not, but when I found him, he was crying. It took him a while to tell me exactly what had happened, but he told me that Bolton hit him, and raped him. Theon told me that he had said no, over and over again, and Bolton ignored him. We talked, and I convinced him to break up with Bolton so he couldn't hurt him anymore. The next day, Theon went to do that, and Bolton beat and raped him again and took him captive. I didn't see him again until Yara and I went to look for him, and then not until he escaped.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay, Mr. Stark. Thank you very much. I’m finished with my questions.” She straightened out her papers, sitting back down and starting to review them carefully. 

"Witness is dismissed," the judge ordered, and Robb rose at once to him feet. He retreated to the stands, sitting beside Jon. Anxiety coursed through him; what if he'd messed up? Locke was conversing quietly with his four clients, and as Robb's eyes landed on him, Locke glanced back and smirked at him. 

Beyond Locke, Olenna was rising. "Prosecution calls its next witness, Theon Greyjoy!" she called out. A door opened, the same door Robb himself had had to come through, and a pale-faced Theon entered the courtroom.


	79. Chapter 79

Theon nervously went up to the witness stand, wringing his hands in his lap as he sat down. Everyone’s eyes were on him, he could feel their gazes even when he looked away. It made him nervous, made him want to claw at himself, but he’d been advised by his lawyer to try and avoid any anxious habits that could distract the jury while on the stand. His lawyer was watching him, he knew, the blunt old lady by the name of Olenna Tyrell, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking- but he was pretty sure picking at the missing stub of his finger would be a distraction. But... if he acted anxious, would they think he was lying? Would it seem suspicious? He wasn’t lying, but if they thought he was... and on the other hand, if he was too well composed, would they find that odd? Would they think him a liar because he seemed unaffected by his trauma? He glanced up to make eye contact with Robb, his boyfriend’s eyes full of warmth and love, and he relaxed just a tiny bit. 

“Excuse me. Mr. Greyjoy. Are you ready to begin?”

Theon startled, looking over to the judge and nodding. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Sorry.” 

“Okay. Attorney Tyrell, you may begin with your questions for the witness.” 

The old woman stood up, offering Theon a reassuring smile. “Okay, Mr. Greyjoy. You of course swore an oath to be truthful, and I am not questioning the truth in your opening statements. However, I must ask- the events that you described to us were all recounted as accurately as possible?”

“Yes. I-I mean, as accurate as I can remember. I spent a lot of time locked away, I can’t... a lot happened.” 

“Let me rephrase. Were the events you described retold as accurately as you were able?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thank you. Is it possible there were things that happened which you didn’t tell us about? That you don’t remember?”

“I guess- I guess so. I think he gave me a concussion at some point, and I blacked out from pain sometimes.” 

“During your opening statements, you said the first time Mr. Bolton sexually assaulted you was the fourteenth of February. Is this correct?”

Theon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Y-yes, that’s correct.”

“At that point you had been in a romantic relationship with him for a month?”

“A month exactly. It was- it was the night of our one month anniversary when he first- when he assaulted me the first time.” 

“And how did you initially come to know Ramsay Bolton?”

Theon swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up. “I- we had a one night stand, but I didn’t know it was him. The first time we interacted when I knew it was him was in the beginning of January.” 

“Would it be correct then to say you had only known each other for approximately two weeks before becoming a couple?” Olenna spoke bluntly, but there was a kindness to her face, and it made Theon a little less anxious. 

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

“Did any specific event bring the two of you together?”

Theon looked over to Robb. “I- Robb and I weren’t talking, and then I met Ramsay, and he- he listened to me, and was nice to me. He kind of- I guess he took Robb’s place as my closest friend for a while, because I- I didn’t have anyone else to go to, and he seemed- at the time, he seemed so perfect.” He could see the corners of Ramsay’s lips quirk upwards in his peripheral and his own face flushed darker. 

“Would you say he took advantage of your vulnerability?”

“Yes.” 

Olenna nodded before continuing on. “Before the fourteenth of February, was there any occasion in which Mr. Bolton hurt you in any way? Even if not physically?” 

“N-no. He was- he was rough sometimes, during sex, but it was all consensual.” 

Another nod. ”In regard to the first time you were sexually assaulted by Mr. Bolton. Was there anything going on between the two of you? Any sort of tension or conflict?”

“No. It had been- it was a really nice day, we- it was really nice, he told me he loved me, I-“ Theon’s voice cracked and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I said I loved him too, and then that night he- that night he assaulted me.” 

“And you stayed with him after this?”

“No- yes- I- I told Robb what Ramsay had done, then I went to Ramsay’s house the next day to talk to him.” 

“How did you get to Mr. Bolton’s house?”

“I texted him to come get me so we could talk. He- in the car, he apologized, said he didn’t realize I didn’t want it, he seemed so sincere, I-I trusted him. Then we got inside and he- he-“

“Thank you, Mr. Greyjoy.” Olenna interrupted. Theon looked down at his hands, which were shaking in his lap. “When you went to his house, what was your intent?”

“I was going to break up with him.”

“And what stopped you from doing this?”

“He- he beat me and he-“ Theon swallowed thickly. “He raped me again. On the floor. Then brought me down to the basement and chained me there.” 

He lifted a hand to touch his throat, as if expecting the heavy metal collar to be there. He could practically feel it, the memory of its weight, of how cold the metal felt on his skin. 

“I know this is difficult for you, Mr. Greyjoy, and I apologize for that.” He could see the genuine sympathy in her expression. “However, I still have quite a few questions for you.”

“Okay.” He nodded, hands twisting and trembling in his lap. 

“You say he chained you in the basement. How exactly were you restrained?”

“At- at first, or the whole time?” 

“Let me ask it differently. When he first brought you to the basement, how were you restrained?”

“He put a metal collar on me. It was- the collar was connected by a chain to a pole.”

“I am going to bring up some photos on the projector. Can you confirm that they were you?”

Theon’s breathing stopped. The pictures. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want anyone to. And yet he nodded. “Okay.”

Olenna nodded toward someone sitting near the middle of the room. They shifted through a pile of papers, sliding one beneath the projector light. A picture was cast onto the white screen to the side of the judge- just slightly so that it was nearly in the center. 

It was a picture he hadn’t seen yet. It must’ve been a fairly early one- they must’ve gone through Ramsay’s phone. It was early on, he could tell. He was naked and curled under a ratty blanket, collar on his neck and chained to a pole. He shuddered at the sight and looked away. 

“Is this you in the photo, Mr. Greyjoy?”

“Yes.” He responded softly. 

“You said he restrained you in other ways as well? What were they?”

“My- my wrists and ankles. Chained to the pole. And then- there was a hook on the ceiling he hung me by my wrists on. For- for days at a time. He- he also made me wear... things.”

He glanced up at the jury for the first time, seeing the disgust on many of their faces. 

“What did he make you wear?”

“He- he dressed me like a dog. Ears, a- a gag, a muzzle, and this- this tail thing that went inside me.” Theon cringed, looking back to his lawyer. 

“So this is you as well?” She gestured, and the photo was exchanged for another- one he’d seen before. It was the photo Ramsay had shown him in the bathroom. The ears, the tail, the gag and muzzle and collar, him crouched on the floor. 

“Y-yes.” 

For the first time that day, he looked over to his ex. He could see Ramsay’s breath hitch, pupils blown, running his tongue over his plump lips as the photos came up on the projector. He was turned on. Theon watched as he shifted in his seat. He was on fucking trial for abuse, rape, attempted murder- amongst many other things- and yet he was quite visibly aroused. It made Theon’s stomach squirm and twist and tie in knots. 

“And this?” The one he’d seen with Robb, the one Ramsay had sent that he’d actually looked at- passed out and hanging from the ceiling hook, blood streaming down his thighs. 

“Yes.” He answered, voice whisper-soft. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Greyjoy. Could I ask you to repeat that? Is it you in the photo?”

“Yes.” He said, louder now, but his voice shook. 

“Thank you.” She nodded to the man at the projector, and he flicked a switch to turn it off. Theon met Yara’s eyes and saw the horror in them. She’d never seen... never seen him at his worst. She’d seen him after he’d already had some time to recover, even if only a few days. She looked like she was about to cry. 

“Before I ask about them, I must ask. Just to confirm- when you say “The Bastard’s Boys,” “the boys,” or “his boys,” these all refer to the same group of people?”

“Yes. They’re- they’re a group of seven men.”

“And you say they help Ramsay Bolton?”

“Yes. They hunt with him, and he- well, before I ran away the first time, he let Damon- that one-“ He pointed to the pretty blonde boy who was busy glaring at him. “He let him whip me. The- the others stood and watched.” 

She nodded to the projector man again and a new photo came up. He recognized the situation immediately. When Yellow Dick had raped his mouth after Damon whipped him. “And this is you? Who is the man-“

“Yellow Dick.” He pointed to him sitting between Damon and Sour Alyn. “Y-yea. It’s me. Ramsay told him to-to shut me up. Shut my lying mouth, I think he said. I- when Damon whipped me, I-I begged Ramsay to stop him, I told Ramsay I loved him and he punished me for it.”

“How long after that did you run away?”

“I- I don’t remember. I just- I don’t remember, I don’t, I- he stopped chaining me for a little while, but I- I- he had his dogs attack me. W-wait, no, that was before the whippings, that- I’m sorry, I don’t know, there was so much and I was so alone, and it was so dark, I don’t know, I’m-“

“That’s enough, Mr. Greyjoy. It is okay.” 

There were tears welling up in his eyes and he blinked rapidly to fight them back. Was he really there that long? It felt like it, long days in the dark all melting together. 

“Let’s go to the running away, okay? How did you escape?” 

“I- I don’t remember. I just- I left. I took my phone and ran.”

“You said when you escaped the first time, you went to-“

“A club.” Theon finished. 

“Do you remember the name or location of the club?”

“I- Deepwood Road, I think? I don’t remember much else about it. I was drunk, and scared.” 

“From the club you went to the Stark home, is this correct?” A nod. “How did you get there?”

“I called Robb.” Theon looked over to his boyfriend, at those pretty blue eyes. “He came and got me right away. He-he picked up the phone right away. He came and brought me home. To- to his house.”

Robb offered him a small smile, and Theon’s heart swelled. Olenna continued to speak. “How long did you reside in the Stark household before returning to the Bolton residence?”

“I- not long. A few hours. I woke up the next morning and called Ramsay to get me.” He sounded ashamed. 

“Why did you return to the Bolton residence?”

“I was scared. I thought- I thought he’d hurt Robb, hurt the Starks. He talked about hurting them a lot.”

“How did you get back to Ramsay Bolton’s home?”

“I- like I said, I called him, he drove over and picked me up. When we got back, that was when he first put the- that’s when he put the dog stuff on me for the first time.”

“So some of those photos we’ve shown are from after you ran away, not before?”

“Y-Yea.” 

“You were with him for some time after your return, correct?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what happened in that time? You mentioned some things in your opening statements. I was wondering if you have any memories that stand out?”

“He told me Robb Stark was dead. He- he told me he killed Jon Snow, and that his dog killed my puppy, Queenie. He told me the boys raped Sansa Stark. B-but, before any of that, he let- he- the boys, he-“ Theon choked on his words and had to look back down at his lap. 

“He let the boys what, Mr. Greyjoy?”

“He let them- they- he-“ 

Ramsay was shifting in his seat, breathing heavily, staring at Theon with lustful eyes. 

“He let them rape me. All- all of them. One after the other, t-two at a time, their penises and fingers and fists and-“ He let out a small dry sob. “Sorry. I- sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Greyjoy. Take your time.” 

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths before looking up again, looking at her. “Okay. That’s- that’s what they did. And then one time, Damon came down and he took- he took a knife, and skinned my pinkie finger. My left pinkie finger.” He lifted his left hand, showing the stub where his finger used to be. “It- Ramsay heard me screaming and came down, he held me, he- he held me when Skinner cut the finger off. There was nothing else they could do. It- there was no way it would heal.” 

“Backing up to the group assault, is this photo from that event?” She gestured, and a new photo came up in the projector. He visibly shuddered and let out a dry sob. There he was, tail plug in alongside one of the boy’s cocks, another boy knelt in front of him and stroking himself. There was blood all over his thighs, dripping out of him. 

“I- yes. That’s- that’s me- that’s from that.”

The projector went off and Theon could hear Ramsay make a soft, quiet noise akin to a moan just before it did. No one else seemed to hear it, but Theon certainly did. 

“Is there anything else that stands out from your time in the basement?” Olenna asked, voice softening a bit, seeing how red Theon’s face was, how he was fighting back tears. 

“He- Tansy. He let me out when he hunted Tansy.”

“Tansy?”

“She was- she was this chubby blonde girl, I-I think she was a teenager. He made me go on the hunt with him and the boys, he only gave me shoes and a shirt and nothing else. There was Kyra, too, but I didn’t see that hunt. He just told me about it.”

“Kyra?”

“He told me they hunted her.”

“When you say hunt, what do you mean? What do they do on these hunts?”

“They- they clawed out her eyes-“

“You told us to.” Ramsay snarled, interrupting, and everyone looked over at him in shock. 

“I-I-“ Theon’s eyes went comically wide. 

“Do not interrupt the testimony.” The judge ordered, giving him a stern look. “If you do that again, Mr. Bolton, you may be held in contempt of court. 

He shrugged and relaxed back in his seat, looking smug. 

“Is this true?” Olenna questioned. “Did you tell them to... take her eyes out?” 

“No!” 

It was true, he hadn’t told them to. He’d begged Ramsay to make her stop looking at him, and Ramsay had let the boys interpret it in their own way.

“Okay. Now, could you continue with telling us what these hunts consist of?”

“They- they gang rape the girl and then let the dogs kill her. Then Grunt cleans up the bones.” 

“Okay. Is there anything else from your time with Ramsay Bolton that stands out?”

“N-no- except the last day. When he hunted me. He- he cut off my nails and almost cut off my left ring finger. His dad came in and stopped him.”

“Roose Bolton?” Olenna looked fairly surprised. 

“Yeah. He- he came in and told Ramsay to take me outside, I think. And Ramsay brought me back to the basement for a while and then- when he came back- he brought me outside to hunt me. He- he made me go barefoot, and still with all the dog stuff and just a big shirt.”

“And he didn’t catch you on this hunt?”

“No. He- his dogs-“ Kyra had saved him. “-they couldn’t find me. Couldn’t catch up to me. I ran all the way home- to the Starks. Sansa opened the door.”

“Did either you or Sansa Stark contact authorities or seek medical help?”

“No. She- she took care of me. I didn’t want anyone else to see me. Robb saw me a few days later.”

“How long after your escape did you first see Ramsay?”

“I- a few weeks? I think? He- he cornered me in the bathroom at school and tried to force me to suck his cock. I called for Robb, who was waiting outside, and he and Jon came in to fight Ramsay off. I had to beg him to leave. I- I had to call him master.”

“You called him master?” Olenna raised an eyebrow, and Ramsay’s smirk grew in Theon’s peripheral. 

“When- I think it started after he told me about Kyra. I- I started calling him master, it made him happy. It- it made him hurt me less.” 

“Okay. So you said you begged him to leave the bathroom. Did he?”

“Yes.” 

“And when did you next encounter him?” 

“In the bathroom alone. He- he showed me one of the pictures. He threatened to share it online, and made me kiss him in order to not have them shared.”

“And did you kiss him?”

“Yes. A little. But he- he kissed me again after, harder, and told me to come home. And a few days later he sent me and Robb more pictures.”

“And did you see him again after that?”

“Not until he broke in.” 

“Can you describe the night of the break in to me?”

Theon nodded slowly. “He- I was sleeping with Robb, and woke up to the dogs. He had his dogs attack the Stark’s dogs, he kept telling me to come home with him. Sansa called the police. I- I think Ramsay tried to have his dogs kill me when he realized I wasn’t going to go home with him. And then the cops came.” 

Olenna gave him a minute to relax and collect his thoughts. “Thank you, Mr. Greyjoy. Lastly, I want to go through the photos of your scars. I know this may be difficult, but none of the photos are graphic in the ways the ones before were. They’re the photos of your wounds from the police examination.”

“Okay.”

The first photo was of his hands, both laid out flat on a table. 

“The damage to your fingers was done by Ramsay, Damon, and... Skinner. Is that correct?” 

“Yes. They’re- they’re the only ones who did anything to my hands. And Skinner didn’t do it to hurt me, he- he did it to help. The pinkie had to be removed.”

She gestured with her hand and the next picture came up. It was his back, pale and ruined with pink, purple, and white scars. They criss-crossed all over it, and there was a square patch of thick, puffy scar tissue to the side of his spine, where Skinner had removed his skin. “Can you tell us the origins of these?”

“They’re all from whipping, except the square one. That- that’s from Skinner. He did it while he r- while he raped me.”

The next photos were his arms, of which he identified the scars as dog bites. His calves were next, and he identified the dog bite scar there too. There was a photo of his chest, the scars from the whip and the name carved into his skin. And then a photo of his thighs- or rather two side-by-side photos- came up on the projector. They were covered in ugly pink and purplish lines, scars that were just slightly raised from the skin. 

“Are these from Mr. Bolton?”

“... no.”

“The ‘boys,’ as you’ve called them?”

“No...”

“Then would you mind telling me what they’re from?”

His face was hot with shame, and tears were once again prickling in the corners of his eyes. “Me.”

“From you?”

“I- when I escaped after the hunt, I- I thought I needed to be punished, so I- I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.” 

Ramsay’s whole face had lit up and he was staring at the pictures, looking to Theon and then back to the projection with hungry eyes. His cheeks had grown flushed just slightly, his breathing shallower. Theon could sense his arousal. He could feel it in the way Ramsay looked at him, as if he wanted to leap out of his seat, bend Theon over a bench, and take him right then and there. He shuddered with disgust at the thought of it. 

“It is okay, Mr. Greyjoy. I just have one more question.” The projector was once again turned off, and he shifted his teary gaze over to Olenna. 

“Oh-Okay.”

“Is there anything else that you may have forgotten, or that sticks out- any sort of information we’ve not already been told?”

“N-not that I can think of.”

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Greyjoy. I am finished with my questions.” She took a seat, and Ramsay’s lawyer stood up. 

There were murmurings in the room, and the judge hit the gavel on the wood to quiet everyone down. Once it was silent, the judge spoke.

“The defense attorney may now ask questions of the witness. Attorney Locke, you may begin whenever you are ready.”

Just the look of the man made Theon want to melt into the ground and disappear. The pale skin and pointed chin, sharp and beady eyes, dark hair greased back. The way he looked at Theon chilled him to the bone.

“Mr. Greyjoy. You’ve said many fascinating things in your testimony thus far, and I aim to clean up any possible... lies or misunderstandings in regards to my client.” He gestured to Ramsay, who was trying hard to conceal a wicked smirk, and Theon knew right away that this was about to go very badly. 

“I- I didn’t lie.”

“Okay. I’d like to begin, if you are ready?” 

“Okay. I’m ready.” Theon nodded. Locke grinned. 

“Excellent. So. My client here, Mr. Ramsay Bolton, is your ex boyfriend. Is this correct?”

“Yes.”

“You are positive that the person holding you captive was Ramsay Bolton?”

“Wha- yes? Absolutely. He- I could see his face when he raped and beat me and chained-“

“Along with Mr. Bolton,” Locke interrupted, “In your opening statements, you told us quite a bit about your time with Ramsay Bolton. Some things were unclear- especially your recounting of some events with the group of men you’ve called ‘The Bastard’s Boys.’ You stated that they all assaulted you, but also mentioned being unconscious and also not knowing exactly who was doing what. Can you be sure that the three men we have on trial along with Mr. Bolton all partook in your physical assault?” 

“Yes, I- I was unconscious sometimes, but I still know they all hurt me.” 

“So you are certain that all three of them have committed acts of violence against you specifically?”

Theon’s brows furrowed. “Yes.” 

“But Mr. Greyjoy, you said he kept you in the dark. How is it, then, that you were able to see and recognize the faces of those who assisted him in hurting you?”

“I- what? There was- there was a light switch, I was only in the dark when I was alone.”

“That’s an interesting little bit of information to keep to yourself.” Locke nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Now that I’ve cleared that up, let me go back to the start. Would you remind me of when the first assault occurred?”

“February fourteenth.”

“Was it exactly on that date, or may you have just come to associate it with that date, as the fourteenth of February happens to be a memorable holiday?”

“It was exactly that date. I remember.” Locke’s questioned seemed pointless, and Theon was only growing more nervous and flustered. What was he trying to accomplish with these questions?

“Now, Mr. Greyjoy, you stayed that you and Mr. Bolton had rough sex in the past. If you and Ramsay regularly engaged in rough sex, how was he to know you didn’t want it?”

“I said no! I-I said the safe word!” Theon stared at him, incredulous. 

“Is it possible you had engaged in consent play in the past, and that my client merely forgot the safe word?”

“No! I- we didn’t- consent play? No, it was always consensual before the first time he- the first time he assaulted me. It wasn’t even- he was just a little rough sometimes, I wouldn’t say we regularly had rough sex.” 

“If he raped you, as you claim, why would you go alone with him to talk?”

“He seemed apologetic, he- I thought he really didn’t mean it-“

“And what makes you think now that he did mean it?”

“Everything else he did to me!” 

Locke nodded slowly. “Did you love my client?”

“N-no.”

“Interesting.” Locke turned to the man at the projector, who switched the settings over to pull up a video. It projected onto the screen, and Theon cringed at the sound of his own voice. He couldn’t even remember the scene in the video happening, and it scared him. He was curled up on the floor, head resting in Ramsay’s lap as he played with his hair. 

“I love you, master.” His voice came over the speakers, weak and shaky. 

“I know, pup. You’ve been such a good boy.” Ramsay’s voice responded, fingers gently combing through Theon’s hair. It almost looked sweet and loving, if not for the fear he knew he’d felt and the wounds all over his body. 

Locke nodded to the man and the video was turned off. “This is from after your first escape. And here you are, professing your love and calling him master. And yet you claim not to love him?”

“I- I was scared, I-“

“If you lied and said you loved and wanted him, how could he know any different? How could he tell if your ‘yes’ meant ‘no’? Obviously, you were saying certain things and meaning other things.” 

“I said no all the time-“

“But it seems you also often gave positive feedback? Declarations of love? I’d assume you also consented to much of the sexual activity. Is it possible that you had a completely consensual relationship with Mr. Bolton, and are now here because you regret some things that occurred?”

“He- he abused me! He tortured me, he held me captive and starved and raped and beat me!” 

“So you say. My client has pled guilty to the charges of murder, breaking and entering, and rape. And yet he denies the charges of domestic abuse, attempted murder, and your rape, torture, and confinement. If he is already pleading guilty to so many things, what is there to gain by lying about you? Why would my client deny what he did to you, if he’s already pleading guilty to so many charges?”

“I- I don’t know! I don’t understand him, I- I never have. He saw me as property. He didn’t see me as a human.”

“And this wasn’t just part of your... unusual sexual relations? A bit of pet play that you regret, perhaps?”

“No! I didn’t- he forced all that stuff on me when I was already chained up! It wasn’t playing, he forced me!” Theon was visibly distressed, more than before, and was beginning to look as if he might cry. He wanted Robb, wanted to hide his face against Robb’s chest and stay like that forever. But Robb was across the room, and not allowed to talk or come up to him. 

“He forced you?”

“Yes! Him and- and the boys! They all did!”

Locke couldn’t conceal his grin as he gestured to the man controlling the projector and a new photo came up on the screen. It was from when the boys ganged up on him. Someone was behind him, inside him an arm wrapped around his torso to hold him up. His head was tipped back, eyes shut- there were tears on his cheeks and blood on his thighs but the picture showed him coming, white streaks on his belly and the floor, and one in the middle of spurting out of his cock. Theon choked back a dry sob- ashamed, humiliated. 

“We found lots of footage on my client’s phone, Mr. Greyjoy. Plenty of it seems to show you... enjoying it.”

“I didn’t want to! I- I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t, I didn’t want to, I didn’t want it- I didn’t, I didn’t!”

“Objection!” Olenna called out. “My client is visibly distressed, and it seems Attorney Locke is purposely working him up to this state.”

“I am only asking questions, Ms. Tyrell.”

The judge looked at her. “Please remain silent, Ms. Tyrell. Mr. Locke has not broken any rules.” 

She looked angry but sat down, and Locke only looked more smug. 

“So you say you were forced. Would you say it traumatized you? Would you feel safer with Ramsay Bolton locked up?”

“Yes and yes.” 

“Then I must ask. Why did your hide it for these past few weeks? What would motivate you to keep this to yourself?”

“I already- I already said! I was scared. I thought he’d hurt me, he’d hurt the Starks. I-I was so scared.”

“Interesting. What, then, made you decide to press charges?”

“He broke in-“

“He has pled guilty to breaking and entering. This leads me to my next question. Are you making up other charges just to worsen his punishment?”

“No! I- no! That just- him breaking in made me realize I wouldn’t be safe as long as he was free.” 

“Interesting. Now. In regard to the ‘Bastard’s Boys,’ as you’ve called them- you stated there were seven men. You claimed to know all of their faces and names- or rather nicknames- and yet have neglected to state all seven. Do you know all seven, or is there a reason you’re withholding some?”

“I- I know all seven. Damon, Yellow Dick, Sour Alyn, Luton, Grunt, and Skinner.” And Ben Bones. 

“That’s only six, Mr. Greyjoy-“

“The seventh didn’t- he watched, but he never really hurt me, and he- he’d be taking care of the girls if they escaped. And- and someone needs to care for them, they’re good girls, they- they’re just puppies.”

“What is the seventh mans name?”

“... Ben Bones.” Theon said reluctantly. 

“So you are trying to protect one of the boys?”

“He didn’t hurt me. He just watched. And the dogs are good girls, they’re good, and he- he knows how to care for them. They’re good girls.”

“Did they not bite you in multiple different places?”

“Helicent did. Because Ramsay told her too. But- but that’s not her fault. And they’re good, especially Kyra, she- she saved me, on the hunt, she saw me and-“ Theon cut off, eyes going wide with horror as he slowly looked over to Ramsay. There was anger in his expression now. He shouldn’t have said that, about Kyra, now she’d be hurt- if Ramsay wasn’t convicted, Kyra would be hurt. 

“And?”

“She led the dogs in the other direction.” Theon answered quietly. “She didn’t let them catch me.” 

“And what day did this occur, Mr. Greyjoy?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“Many of the events you’ve recalled, you’ve been unable to provide dates for. Why is this?”

“I don’t know! I was locked in a basement in the dark! I didn’t know what time it ever was, or what day! Even when I tried to keep track, I couldn’t! He- he’d randomly come down to rape me, or to beat me, I didn’t know!”

“So you claim you were unable to perceive the passage of time? Was there anything else that could bring into question the accuracy of your retelling of these events? Any alcohol, medication, or other mind-altering substances?”

“No!”

“Was there anything of the sort that would have been affecting Ramsay Bolton during these events?”

“I- I don’t know, but even if he was, that- that doesn’t excuse what he did, he still-“ There were tears on his cheeks now, and his breathing was shallow. “Even if he was, it doesn’t excuse him beating me, a-and raping me, and keeping me in his basement like an abused dog.”

There was sympathy in the faces of the jury. They believed him. They all looked like they believed him. It made him feel a little less scared, a little less distraught. 

“Abused dog? So. You say that Ramsay Bolton and his ‘boys,’ as you’ve called them, took joy in hurting you?”

“Yes. They did. He- Ramsay got hard from beating me. He- he raped me after he beat me. He liked beating me. So did the boys. You- I’m covered in scars! He starved me, he ruined me, he- he fucking carved his name into me! He carved his name into me and I hate it, I hate that he did it! He mutilated me, he constantly raped me and beat me and threatened to kill me! He wanted my family and friends dead! He fucking abused me, he ruined me, I lie awake at night because if I fall asleep I dream about him, and when I’m awake I still feel his hands on me, all over me, I feel him inside me. Robb never gets to sleep through the night because he wakes up to comfort me because I wake up screaming half the time. I wake up screaming because Ramsay won’t leave me alone even in my fucking dreams. I can’t go to the bathroom alone at school because I’m afraid he’ll show up and corner me and-“

“That’s enough, Mr. Greyjoy.” The judge interrupted. “Attorney Locke, you may continue with your questions.”

Locke looked highly displeased and was nearly glaring at Theon. Theon let out a tiny sob and dragged his hand over his face, wiping away the tears that were tracking down his cheeks. 

“Mr. Greyjoy.” Locke’s voice was cold. “Are you... capable of continuing right now?”

Theon sniffled and nodded, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand.

“Even if you were abused, Mr. Greyjoy, which I must argue you were not- wouldn’t you still be an accomplice to murder?”

“W-What?”

“Well, you knew of the crimes my client committed. You’ve told us that, and my client has plead guilty to them.” He tilted his head. “You even say you witnessed a murder. My client here said you told them to take her eyes out. Does that not make you an accomplice?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t tell them to- I was scared! I was scared, and I just- I told him to make her stop looking at me- I didn’t know they’d take her eyes- I didn’t know, how could I know? How- how could I have known? I didn’t know, I swear, I didn’t know, I only knew he’d hurt me if I messed up a-and everything already hurt so bad, all the time, I just didn’t want to be hurt anymore. I was scared, of- of being hurt, of him- I’m still scared of him- even just looking at him. Even in here, I-I look at him and I’m scared he’ll hurt me.”

Locke was growing visibly aggravated with him, and it was clear that he was not happy about Theon’s emotional outbursts and ramblings. “Scared or not, you didn’t report it. Should you not have reported it as soon as you escaped? You protected a murderer! You kept him from being dealt proper justice, did you not? So was it really out of fear, or to save yourself as you knew we would discover you assisted in the kill?”

“I thought he’d kill me! He tried to! He- when he hunted me, he was going to kill me. So many times he threatened to kill me- he- he tried to have his dogs kill me when he broke in- please, I’m scared, I’m- I was scared-“ He was weak, so weak, scared and weak, rhymes with meek, reek, freak... He let out a soft, pathetic groan as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He was shaking terribly now, his heart pounding, breathing shallow. “I didn’t help him kill her- I- I didn’t help them, I was scared and I just- I just asked him to make her stop looking at me- I didn’t know- I d-didn’t want to die- I didn’t want anyone to die!”

Ramsay was unable to keep the wicked grin off his face and the jury could see it, could see the nasty glint in his eye, the smugness, but only Theon could make out the dark swirling arousal that was caused by his own fear. 

“Yet-“

“Stop it!” 

Yara had stood up, hands clenched in fists at her sides, her face red and twisted with rage. 

“He needs a break, give him a break!”

“Mrs. Greyjoy, we can’t-“

“Give him a break or shut that vile shitbag up!” She snarled, pointing to Locke. “He’s hurting Theon, he’s purposely hurting him, can’t you fucking see? He’s scaring him on purpose! That’s my-“

“Mrs. Greyjoy! I will ask you to sit down, or you will be asked to leave.” The judge ordered. 

“That’s my baby brother!” She finished her sentence with a nasty look at the judge. Theon could see tears in her eyes, and when he looked over to Robb, his boyfriend was crying and trembling. “That’s my baby brother, and he needs a break, you can’t-“

“Mrs. Greyjoy. I must ask you to leave the room.” 

“Fuck you! I won’t watch as you let this man torture my baby broth- let go of me! Don’t fucking touch me! Let go-“

Two security men had come up behind her and were grabbing her by the arms, lifting her up and hauling her out of the room as she yelled obscenities at Attorney Locke. The outburst had only caused Theon’s state to worsen and he was now openly sobbing, loud, hiccuping sobs, hanging his head and watching his hands twisting in his lap. He was such a bad brother, such a bad friend, a bad boyfriend, so bad and meek and weak and... he curled his hands into fists and let out another sob. 

And then Ramsay laughed. His eyes were alight with a sick sort of glee, and it made Theon want to run. 

“P-please- I can’t anymore- I can’t-“ Theon stammered. “He’s- I cant, not with him looking at me, like- like I’m prey again- I can’t- don’t let him take me again- Robb-“ He looked to his boyfriend across the room, desperate, expression screwed up with fear and grief. “Robb, please, I- he’s gonna hurt me again, I can’t- I can’t- I’m not his, I don’t wanna be his anymore, I don’t want- please-“ 

“Mr. Greyjoy!” The judge interrupted. “Please compose yourself. Attorney Locke has not finished with his questions.”

“I don’t want to answer any more questions! He- Ramsay smiles when I talk about how he hurt me, he- he- the way he looks at me when I talk about the rapes and the beatings- I don’t wanna answer questions anymore!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Greyjoy, but you must finish your testimony. Attorney Locke?”

Locke smirked and nodded. “Mr. Greyjoy. I just have a few more questions to wrap this up. 

“You are sure you have told the court everything you remember about your time with my client, Ramsay Bolton, and that you’ve told it accurately?”

“Y-yes- as much as I remember, yes- please, I want Robb-“

“And,” Locke interrupted, “You admit to being present at the site of a murder and not reporting it?”

“Yes- Wait- no- I did report it- I- just late- I was scared, I didn’t-“

“Perhaps you assisted in the murder and are lying about my client to cover yourself? I am finished now, your honor.” Locke nodded to the judge, giving no time for Theon to answer. “Thank you, Mr. Greyjoy.” 

“I’m not lying!” Theon exclaimed, standing up, holding up his left hand. “The pictures, my body- it’s all evidence, he tortured me, he- he ruined me- he-“

“That is enough, Greyjoy!” The judge loudly interrupted. “You may retire to the stands.” 

Theon looked at Locke, then Ramsay, angry and hurt. Then he stepped away from the witness stand and practically ran to Robb, flinging himself at his boyfriend with a loud, ugly sob. He only relaxed when he felt his boyfriend’s fingers softly stroking his hair, the warmth of his body, scent of his soap, and the soft whispers of his voice overwhelming his senses. He closed his eyes, hiding his face against Robb’s chest, practically sitting in his lap as he cried. But it was okay now, as okay as it could possibly be in the courtroom, because he was with Robb. He was in the arms of the one who loved him more than anyone else, arms like a safety blanket, arms that felt like home. 

He thanked the Drowned God for Robb Stark.


	80. Chapter 80

“Mr. Ramsay Bolton.” Locke smiled at his client. “Are you ready to begin?” 

In the stands, Theon and Robb sat together, their fingers intertwined. They were leaned in close, talking in hushed whispers to each other, with Theon every once in a while softly kissing his boyfriend’s cheek, and Robb occasionally gently brushing curls away from his boyfriend’s face. 

"Oh, yes," Ramsay said with a leer. "I am more than ready." He had been ready for days, ever since Theon and the wolves had testified. His eyes lingered on Robb and Theon, rich with distaste. They weren't even paying attention.

Theon could feel Ramsay’s eyes on him, but he refused to look up, focusing instead on counting Robb’s pretty little freckles. 

“How did you and Theon Greyjoy initially meet?” Locke’s smile did little to hide the wicked glimmer in his eye, the enjoyment he got from the discomfort of the prosecution and the jury. 

"Well, my father was out of town for a weekend, and you know how that goes," Ramsay began playfully. "My boys and I threw a party, and Theon showed up and started drinking. He was so horny, rubbing on anybody he could, and I took him away to my room for some privacy. He was begging for it." 

Theon gave him a dirty look from the stands, but Locke just nodded and continued on. “So you would say your first meeting was, without a doubt, consensual?” 

"Definitely. He was moaning like I've never heard before, and begging for more. Like a bitch in heat," he added, grinning. "There should be a picture of that, too."

Locke turned and gestured to the projector person, who was now a woman, and she flicked it on to project a photo of Theon, the one Ramsay had taken during their one night stand. He laid there with spread legs, a photo Robb and Yara had both already seen, looking blissed out, come leaking out. There was no denying he enjoyed it. 

"Looks consensual to me," Ramsay drawled. His gaze dragged hot and heavy over the picture, hungrily taking in every detail. "Remember how happy we were, pup?" he asked, voice carrying out across the room.

Theon flinched, looking away from Robb for a moment. He seemed to shrink, as if trying to hide himself against Robb. 

“After this, what was your next encounter?” Locke gestured to the woman to turn off the projector. 

"He was under the bleachers, hiding from the Young Wolf— Robb Stark," he clarified, "We talked and talked, all day long. He told me everything that was going on in his life."

“Would you say that he trusted you quite a bit?” 

"Right off the bat. He told me everything, like I said. You don't do that with people you don't trust."

“Okay. And your anniversary, when he claims you first assaulted him, what do you believe happened?” 

"That morning, he told me that he never wanted me to stop fucking him. That night, we got a little rough, but we love each other. He may have been tired, but he told me himself that he never wanted me to stop. I obliged."

“That sounds consensual to me, and I’m sure the jury would agree.” Locke turned to smile at them. “Is it true that he tried to break up with you the next day?” 

"Yes," Ramsay said, putting on a very confused face. "Stark confused him, told him all sorts of false intentions. He made my sweet pup think that I had meant to hurt him."

“What happened after that?” 

"I admit I got angry with him. We pushed each other around a bit, and got so caught up in the moment we ended up making love right there on the floor. My father interrupted, of course, and ruined the moment, but... It was a good time. He told me over and over how he was sorry and misunderstood, and that he loved me."

“Everyone has little arguments with their lover sometimes. It’s understandable. And then Mr. Greyjoy moved in with you?” 

Theon clutched Robb’s hand a little tighter, face red. Made love? That wasn’t making love. Ramsay had hit him and hurt him and forced him. 

"Yes. He was scared that the Starks would try to fool him again, and he wanted to be safe with me. He loves me, you know. And I love him." His icy eyes fell heavy on Theon, boring in deep. "It was the best sort of situation for us both."

Theon was beginning to tremble, mumbling under his breath. “No. No, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.”

“And no one would assault someone they love.” Locke stated. “What do you think brought up all these ridiculous accusations against you?”

"Robb Stark, no doubt. His influence on Theon made him question our love, when it was Robb himself who hurt Theon so drastically that he would come to me for comfort in the first place."

“And what do you make of Theon’s ‘first escape’?” 

"Things had been tense between us. He took his phone and wallet and went to a nightclub to unwind, but of course I knew where he was. He called Stark to get him because it was late, and he didn't want me to be disappointed in him. I wasn't, of course. I could never be. I came and got him the next morning, and we had out much needed talk. There were things he wanted sexually that I wasn't giving him. He wanted to explore pet play, and BDSM. That's why he was dressed like that, and chained. It was our sexual game, all consensual."

“No!” Theon exclaimed from his spot, tears prickling in his eyes. Pet play and BDSM. He was kept in a basement for weeks at a time. 

“Quiet, Mr. Greyjoy.” The judge ordered, and Theon flinched back, hiding his face against Robb’s shoulder. 

“Anyway.” Locke gave Theon a look before turning back to Ramsay. “What do you say about his accusations against the ‘boys?’”

"He's so embarrassed about it, I'm amazed that he brought it up, but... Well, it was a kink of his to be gangbanged. They were all too willing to comply, and he was so eager. You saw the pictures. Hells, he came until he blacked out. Over and over again, I've never seen somebody cum that much before."

“No,” Theon whimpered, quiet so only Robb could hear. “No, Robb...” 

“And what of the hunt?” 

"He got lost when we were taking the dogs out for a walk. I sent Kyra, his favorite, out to find him, along with a few of the other dogs. He must have been running, and the dogs must have scared him. I hate the thought that he was scared of me. He must have thought I would be angry that he got lost."

“What do you think inspired all these false accusations?” 

"Robb Stark must have swayed him. My poor Theon was vulnerable to him. You know how people are with their first loves. But, I thought that he trusted me more than that. Loved me more than that. Stark must have lied to him and convinced him that all our play was abuse."

Theon whimpered again, over and over and over, trembling in his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Thank you, Ramsay. I have no further questions.” Locke sat, looking rather smug. Olenna stood immediately, the lines on her face seeming to have deepened after listening to the defense. 

“Mr. Bolton.” She stated coolly. “I will not question the consent in your first ever meeting, but I must ask, did Theon Greyjoy give you permission to take and share a photo from that night?” 

"Not... Not exactly," Ramsay said, grimacing. "I didn't ask him permission. But when I showed it to him later, he liked it. He thought he looked good in it."

“But did he give you permission to share it? With his best friend and sister, nonetheless?”

"He was with me when I sent it, and he didn't mind at all. He even laughed."

Theon was shaking his head vigorously against Robb's chest, and Robb wrapped his arms around him. "I know it's not true," he soothed. "They all know none of it's true. Look at the jury," he said.

Theon peeked up at them, saw the disgusted way they all looked at Ramsay as he spoke, but it was still little relief. He tried to get closer to Robb, as if it were physically possible when he was already pressed to his side. 

“Okay then.” Olenna paused. “One of my first concerns is the sexual assault on February fourteenth. You say that morning he stated he never wanted you to, quote, stop fucking him, end quote.” She looked up from her paper. “You said nothing, however, about whether or not he consented that night. You said he was tired, rather. So tell me, did Theon Greyjoy give you consent to engage in sexual intercourse with him that night?” 

"I did as he wanted, and I fucked him. There's nothing more to it," Ramsay said coldly. Stupid old cunt, he thought. His pup wasn't good with words, but his body was responsive. She didn't understand that.

“Did he say he wanted it that night?” Olenna repeated. “It is a yes or no question.”

"Not in those words," Ramsay said through gritted teeth. "But he didn't need to. I know him, I know his body. He always wants it. To be frank, Theon's a bit of a slut, but he's mine."

There was a soft gasp from the jury, and a muffled sob from Theon himself. Olenna raised an eyebrow. “So the answer is no. He did not verbally consent that night, did he?” 

"No," he bit out. "Not verbally. But I told you, I know him. I know how he reacts when he wants it, when he's into it."

“Assumptions based on a body’s natural reactions are not consent, Mr. Bolton. I am curious, however- during this encounter, did Theon say ‘no’ or ask you to stop?” 

"No," Ramsay said smoothly. "He screams a lot of things during sex—mostly my name, or begs for more—but he never said to stop."

“Okay. Moving on then. After that night, he tried to break up with you. Even though you claim Robb Stark confused Mr. Greyjoy, you also claim Theon trusted you and loved you very much. Are you claiming that Robb Stark somehow made Theon Greyjoy see what you claim to be a perfectly happy and healthy relationship as abuse?” 

"Robb Stark is controlling and manipulative. You have to consider how he himself treated Theon. He fucked him, then threw him aside and ignored him until Theon was with me and Stark got jealous. He wanted Theon back, because he didn't want to see him happy with anybody besides him," Ramsay answered.

“And that’s why Theon Greyjoy now clings to Robb Stark because he’s afraid of you.” Olenna’s voice was ice cold. “And as far as the break up is concerned,” She looked down at her notes. “You, quote, pushed each other around a bit, and got so caught up in the moment you ended up making love right there on the floor, end quote. Did you obtain verbal consent to have intercourse with him at this time?”

"'Fuck me, Rams'," Ramsay mimicked. "Sounds like consent to me. How about you?"

But he didn't say that, Robb thought furiously. Theon was pressed against him, and he didn't say that. He was raped, brutally.

“Did he really say that, Mr. Bolton? After you pushed each other around, when he was in a vulnerable state? He gave verbal consent and asked you to engage in intercourse with him?” 

"Are you implying that I'm lying?" Ramsay retorted. He was, of course. Maybe Theon had said fuck, and maybe he had cried his name, but certainly not in that context. “He did.” 

“Okay then. Onto the next question. You have claimed many times that he loved you and you love him. And yet he seems terrified any time you so much as look at him. He denies being in love with you. Are you implying that he had been lying on the witness stand?” 

"Stark has manipulated him," Ramsay repeated. "Theon doesn't mean to, but Stark has him nervous and scared. He thinks he needs to fear me, but he doesn't. I know he still loves me."

“If Theon Greyjoy loves you so much, then how would Robb Stark be able to so easily manipulate him to turn so severely against you?” 

"Lots of time and effort, I'd suppose. I don't know the answer to that, I wasn't there when he did it," Ramsay said snidely.

“Have you considered that, perhaps,” She gave him a pointed look, “Theon wasn’t manipulated, but is truly afraid of you and doesn’t love you as much as you think?” 

"That's not a possibility. You saw the video, didn't you? Theon loves me. He did then, and he must still now."

“People change, Mr. Bolton. Moving on. You say things were tense between the two of you before Theon Greyjoy’s first escape. What caused this tension? Surely it couldn’t be Robb Stark, if Theon Greyjoy was living with you?” 

"...There was the one day that Stark and his—Theon's—sister broke in, and he was upset with me for letting my Helicent fend them off... Aside from that, I said earlier that there were things I wasn't doing to satisfy him. He wanted more sexual exploration. We remedied that when he came home."

“Remedied it. So you say he initiated this... pet play stuff? Did you have no interest in the BDSM yourself?” 

"Or course I did. I hadn't thought that he did. We engaged in the collaring before he ever went to the club, but nothing beyond that," Ramsay said.

“Nothing more? Nothing at all?” She raised an eyebrow. “Just the collaring?” Theon knew what she was alluding to. The handcuffs, the ankles, the whipping. Ramsay choking him. 

"Well," Ramsay said, shifting in his seat much like Robb had done. He was uncomfortable, growing anxious, and he hated the feeling. "Theon has a thing for punishment. No matter what we did, he always wanted his master to punish him. That's why we had the whipping session, and more restraints were added as he got more comfortable with the first."

“The whipping session. And that was completely consensual? He didn’t ask for it to stop?” 

"The safeword was not used," Ramsay said. "In our sex, when he wants to stop he uses his safeword."

“And what is his safeword, Mr. Bolton?” 

"..." Ramsay thought furiously. What... What was it? Seven hells... Fuck. "S-squid. It was squid."

“Squid, was it?” The corners of Olenna’s lips quirked upward. “My client told me different, and I’m sure he knows it, as he was the one saying it.”

"He's lying to incriminate me," Ramsay snarled, "under Robb Stark's influence."

“You didn’t sound so sure about the word squid. Are you positive about that?” 

"You can hardly blame me for not thinking of it immediately. He's never used it, after all. But I promise you, if the person you're fucking suddenly starting shouting out animal names, you would stop! I would have stopped."

“Kraken.” Theon said quietly from his place in the stands. “The safe word was kraken, and you never, ever listened to it.” 

The judge told Theon to stop talking, but it had already been said. There was a murmur amongst the jury, and the judge called for everyone to quiet down. 

Olenna gave Ramsay a dark look. “I will ask one more time. Are you sure the safeword was squid?” 

"A kraken is just a giant squid," Ramsay said stubbornly. His eyes were trained on Theon and Robb, and Robb was stroking Theon's hair back from his face, kissing his cheek with all the love and care in the world, and Ramsay was burning with hatred and jealousy. Theon was his.

“Okay then.” Olenna looked down at her papers for a moment. “When he escaped- or rather went to the club- why would Theon be worried that you’d be disappointed with him? What would cause him to fear your disappointment?” 

"He's always so nervous. He was probably worried that I would be angry with him for going out to cope rather than talking with me. I wouldn't have been angry, or disappointed. I was just worried about him and his safety."

Olenna decided to let the jury make of that what they would and moved on. “With your ‘boys,’ If Theon Greyjoy had a... kink to be gangbanged, then why do the pictures show him with blood on his thighs and tears clearly on his face? Anal fissures are medically proven to be very painful up until they’ve healed. Are you claiming he had some sort of kink for being torn in a way that is not only very painful, but also takes some time to heal?” 

"They may have gotten out of hand, a bit rough, but he was very much into the act itself. You saw the photos... He came like that at least once with each of them, twice with others. Poor Theon was all dry by the end of it." He may have exaggerated a bit, but whatever. Theon had orgasmed those sparse few times during the ordeal, screaming and crying the whole way through, but there weren't videos. "I gave him the aftercare he needed."

“Did you take him to get medical attention?” 

Theon was clinging to Robb still like his life depended on it, leaning in to the soft touches and the gentle stroking of his hair. 

"No. I was capable of doing it myself. He hardly got torn, anyways, he just needed a bit of care."

“With all due respect, Mr. Bolton, the amount of blood in the photo suggests much more than just hardly getting torn. It is not normal to bleed that much from... that particular orifice unless it experiences quite a bit of trauma.” She looked at him, eyes steely cold. “So how, then, would you explain that amount of blood, if he was hardly torn?” 

"He— ...What I meant was that it wasn't bad enough to go to the hospital," Ramsay said, thinking fast. There wasn't that much blood, was there? He wondered if he could ask to see the pictures again... Arousal spiked faintly through him at the thought.

“It wasn’t? Would you also then say that the loss of his finger was not hospital worthy either?” 

Ramsay gaped. In the stands, Robb grinned in savage triumph, and the jury all murmured in interest. 

"I... He... He doesn't like hospitals. They scare him. We took care of it ourselves."

“And the multiple dog bites? And his lost fingernails?”

"We took care of all of it," Ramsay said, though he was visibly agitated.

“How exactly did he lose his fingers, Mr. Bolton?” 

"One of my boys got carried away when they were playing... We had to amputate it."

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.” Her voice showed no emotion. “What kind of playing results in a finger being so terribly maimed that it must be amputated?”

"He likes punishment play. I was busy, so he was playing with somebody else, and they had an accident," Ramsay replied, steely.

“What sort of punishment would injure his finger, Mr. Bolton? Surely you know the details, as you claim to love and trust each other so much.” 

"I wasn't present, and he never told me exactly what happened. I assume he got his finger stuck in something. It was mutilated."

“And what of his ring finger?” 

"A separate incident," Ramsay said, evading.

“And what would that be?”

"It was my fault," he said, looking contrite. "We were playing around too, a bit of knife play, you know? And the blade slipped."

“Did the blade slip all the way over to his right hand and remove two of those nails as well?” 

"Another separate incident. He's prone to ingrown nails, and we discussed options before opting for removal."

“Interesting. He has no medical records of ingrown nails, and the medical examination showed that the growth of scar tissue in the nail beds matched the timing of that on his ring finger. Would you care to explain why this might be?”

"We did that just before the attempt of knife play. That's why we had the knife on hand," he said, ignoring the part on the medical history.

“Mr. Bolton, you said he was prone to ingrown nails. His medical history indicates no cases of this in the past. Not to mention the nails were removed rather... sloppily. Why is this?” 

"I never said I was an expert at removing fingernails," he snapped. "I did my best, and it worked."

“I see we aren’t going to get any more honesty out of you on this topic, so I will move on.” She gave him a look before looking down at her papers “In regard to the hunt, or rather Theon Greyjoy’s final escape, you claimed, quote, I hated the thought that he was scared of me. He must have thought I would be angry that he got lost, end quote. Why would he be scared of your anger? What would cause a man who you claim loves you so much to fear you to the degree of which would cause him to run all the way to the Stark household?” 

"Irrationality. Robb Stark's influence on him. He's seen me get angry with other people before, and he must have been nervous. But I would never have gotten angry with him, not for simply getting lost. I don't know why he thought he had to run away."

“How would Robb Stark influence him if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks?”

"When he had seen him, he made him doubtful. We were never quite the same after, but I thought we would recover."

“I also meant to ask- why is it that Mr. Greyjoy did not use his phone for the whole time he was with you, except for his first escape? The phone company records show it was used to text Robb Stark and Yara Greyjoy only a few times, and the texts quite clearly aren’t from Theon Greyjoy himself. Did you take his phone?” 

"He didn't need it. I didn't think they needed to be able to text him, after what they did to him. If he ever needed, or wanted it, I would have given it to him in a heartbeat."

“Do you think it is normal in a relationship to cut off your significant other’s communication with anyone other than yourself?” 

"It might not be... conventional, but it worked best for us. Like I said, if he asked for it back, I would have given it to him," he reasoned.

Olenna nodded slowly. “I just have one more question, Mr. Bolton. Did you see Theon Greyjoy as your property?” 

"Of course not," he snapped. "He is mine, but in the way that a one lover belongs to another. I am his as well. We love each other."

“The prosecution rests.” Olenna nodded one last time before sitting down, sorting through her papers. 

"The witness is dismissed." The judge waved him off, back to sit beside Locke and the three boys, but Ramsay didn't go there. He strode right up to the gate guarding the benches, and bent over it. Theon and Robb were in the front row, and Theon flinched back as Ramsay leaned towards them. Robb and Ramsay eyed each other for a tense moment, while the judge shouted in the background. They all ignored him. 

"Hey there, pup," he said softly.

“G-go away, Rams.” Theon replied, trying to look stern but ending up looking more like a scared little puppy. 

"You look so pretty, my sweet pup. Why don't you come on home?" he asked softly. 

"Why don't you fuck off?" Robb snarled, leaning in to get as much in his face as he could, with Theon half in his lap. Ramsay gave him a cold look. 

"He'll never love you like he loves me, Stark."

"He never loved you."

"He'll be thinking of me even when he's with you. Always, he'll be mine," Ramsay drawled, just as Locke came up behind him, grabbing his arm to tug him away.

“I don’t love you. I don’t!” Theon called after him, voice shaking and cracking. He looked pale as a ghost but softened his voice to talk to his boyfriend. “Robb, you- you know I don’t. I don’t want him. I’m n-not his.” 

"I know you don't," Robb soothed. He pulled Theon into a swift kiss, knowing that Ramsay was watching even as he was hauled back to his chair.

“I want to go home. Can we go home now?” Theon pleaded once he pulled away from the kiss, looking up at Robb with wide, sad eyes. 

"Of course," Robb said, tugging him up. He took his hand and led him from the room, firmly ignoring Ramsay's continued stare after them.

Theon gave Robb’s hand a little squeeze. Catelyn and Sansa had taken the hint and come out as well, Sansa giving Theon a tight hug before they walked out to the car. Once in the car, Theon curled up in the middle seat, pressed against Robb’s side, and closed his eyes. 

“I love you,” He murmured softly, hand in hand still, and relaxed in the feeling of his boyfriend’s warmth. In the feeling of safety. He was at home in Robb Stark’s arms.


	81. Chapter 81

"He's mine," Ramsay growled, glaring up at the metal framing under the top bunk. "He knows that. Why is he doing this shit?"

Above him, he could hear Damon roll over on the shitty mattress and let out a sigh. Ramsay did the same.

“Maybe he just doesn’t actually like you.” Damon grumbled, staring at the wall. Ramsay was moping about Theon, but at least he got to see him. Damon had no idea where Skinner even was.

"He loves me. I know he does... He has to. I love him." It wasn't plausible that he couldn't love him back. Ramsay had never, ever loved somebody before, not like this. Why wasn't it... Why wasn't Theon with him?

“Maybe he was sick of being beaten and just wanted to be cuddled or some shit, I don’t know.” Damon grunted. He wasn’t a soft person, but he could use some cuddling. He missed soft kisses and toying at Skinner’s spider bite piercings with his tongue.

"I cuddled him too. I was just trying to break him down, so he'd be... Perfect. Perfect for me. I thought he'd be easy." He hadn't known what he had until he lost it, he figured, always the big cliche. Seven hells, he missed him. He wanted his pup back.

“He’s not worth it.” Damon snapped. “We’re in a jail cell because of him, and so are Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn, and I have no fucking clue where Skinner is. Or Ben, Grunt, and Luton.”

"Or my girls," Ramsay said miserably. "They're probably with them. I doubt they've gone to the safe house, so they're probably..." He trailed off, not sure if anyone was listening in on them and not wanting to risk it. "I'm sure they're somewhere safe"

“I should’ve gone with Skinner to walk the dogs.” He couldn’t think of anything else- of anyone else. Skinner. Skinner’s sandy blonde hair, his pretty green eyes, his pink smirking lips. His perfect body. Each and every piercing on him, from his eyebrow down to his cock.

"Hey, Damon." Ramsay glanced again up at the bedframe above him. "Did you love him? Or, do you?"

“Who?” Damon moved to lean slightly over the edge of the bunk, looking down at Ramsay.

"Skinner." Ramsay leaned out to look up at him. "Do you love Skinner?"

He paused for a minute. Yes, he did, and he knew it. But did he really want to say it out loud?

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I imagined one day we’d move into our own place and get, like, four cats or something. But with the way this trial is going...”

"That's cute," Ramsay admitted. If things were going better for them right now, he would tease him. Of course, that would make him a huge hypocrite. He paused for a moment. "If I could get pup alone, away from the Starks... But I don't know when I could get the chance."

Damon bit his lip, pulling it between his teeth, sucking at it as he thought. Was there any way for Ramsay to get Theon alone? He released his lip with a small ‘pop.’ “Even if you did, it’s too late, isn’t it? The testimonies are done, and you’ve pled guilty to a ton of other shit.”

"There was no point in denying the other things," Ramsay said. "I didn't even really think we would get off on this, but... Opportunity to see pup in court. Last chance to see him for a long, long time. And I wanted to hear him talk about what we did."

The corners of Damon’s lips twitched. “His breakdown was rather fun, wasn’t it? And those photos....”

"They were gorgeous," he said appreciatively. "I have to say, even though they screwed us in court, I'm glad we took them. Just wish we hid them better."

“Did you see when they dragged his sister out? Crazy bitch.” Damon laughed for the first time since they’d been arrested, but there wasn’t much real joy behind it.

"She was like that when they broke in, remember?" Ramsay settled back against the mattress, comfortable as he could get on the shitty quality.

“Yeah. I remember.” Damon shifted back to lay on his own mattress, staring up at the ceiling. “I‘m gonna miss that house.”

* * *

 

Theon was sat partially in Robb’s lap on the couch, one leg slung over his, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Rickon was on Theon’s other side, snuggled up against him, an arm draped over his shoulders. Sansa was to Robb’s other side, on her phone, probably texting Margaery. Bran was in the recliner as usual, and Arya was sitting on the floor since Catelyn told her she couldn’t bring Nymeria on the couch. All the dogs were gathered around her, including Queenie, cuddled together while the Starks and Theon watched some shitty movie on the television.

Robb hardly followed the action on the screen, focusing instead on Theon and the way he was breathing, the way his hair had grown a couple inches and now formed small curls. "So pretty," he murmured, so only Theon could hear him. "I love you."

“Mm... I love you too.” Theon turned his head a little and planted a small, gentle kiss on his shoulder. Rickon whined when it caused him to scoot over a little, and scrambled to sit on his lap. Theon snorted, looking down at the little Stark. “Oh sorry, Rickon. We also love you, little guy.”

As Theon patted his head, Rickon turned to pout up at him and Robb. “I’m not little!”

"Yes, you are!" Arya called from the floor. Shaggydog, however, stood up and trotted over. He clambered up onto the couch, nosing at the three of them, and forced his way in between them to lay across Robb and Theon's laps with his head on Rickon's. There was no room for Shaggy, but Shaggy made room.

“Drowned God, Shaggy.” Theon snorted again, rolling his eyes and grunting when the dog’s weight settled on top of him. “Rickon, your dog is fat.”

“No he’s not!” Rickon argued with a whine, and Shaggy grumbled in agreement.

"Just heavy," Robb agreed, while Rickon covered Shaggy's ears with his small hands, so the wolfdog didn't have to hear the slander. Jealous, Grey Wind had risen and was pawing at Robb's leg, looking longingly at the spare inch of couch cushion available to him.

Sansa gave Grey Wind a look, huffing as she stood up and walked over to sit on the loveseat. Grey Wind immediately jumped up onto the couch, making himself comfortable and causing the springs to creak.

“Aren’t they not allowed on the couch? Isn’t that why Arya is on the floor?” Theon asked, but then Queenie was hopping up onto the couch to snuggle next to him.

"They're not. But, they're fine." Robb wrapped his arms around Grey Wind's furry neck and planted a kiss on the short, soft furs of his muzzle. Catelyn's look said otherwise, but she didn't verbally object. After all, Theon had just sat through Ramsay's testimony of lies, and if he was happy and not dwelling on the case, she could let it slide.

“Don’t tell on them.” Rickon pouted, squirming and shifting around to face Theon, sitting partly on him and partly on Shaggy. He looked at Queenie and gave her a pat. “Queenie is very fluffy! Even more’n Shaggy! I love her.”

Theon smiled brightly at the little Stark. “She is very fluffy.”

The movie's final scene came to an end, and Catelyn rose from the loveseat. "Are you ready for bed, sweetheart?" she asked Rickon, kneeling to eye level with him.

"I want Theon to!" Rickon pouted, clinging to Theon's shirt. "And Robb!"

Catelyn glanced up at them. "Do you mind?"

“Of course not.” Theon smiled at the little Stark, ushering a reluctant Shaggydog off of his lap and standing up, holding Rickon on his hip. “Time for bed, little dude.”

"Okay," he said, jutting his lip out. "C'mon, Shaggy." He patted his little leg like he'd seen Robb do countless times, and the dog trailed after them as they took Rickon off to his bedroom, just down the hall. Bran's room was next door, and Catelyn was wheeling him in as they passed.

Theon plopped Rickon down on the bed- gently- and reached down to brush his damp little curls out of his face. Catelyn had given him a bath before the movie, and he smelled of strawberries from his shampoo. Theon smiled at him, pulling the covers up to Rickon’s chest as Shaggydog jumped up onto the bed to curl up beside him.

"Story?" Rickon asked, reaching out with a small hand to catch Robb's shirt. "Please?" His round eyes looked pleadingly back and forth between the two of them.

“Of course.” Theon sat down on the side of him not taken up by Shaggydog. “Robb, be a dear and bring us a book?”

"No, I want you to tell me one!" he begged. "Please, Theon?"

"Yeah, please Theon?" Robb echoed, sitting down beside Theon with a grin.

Theon paused for a moment, thinking, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell a story.” He paused again, wracking his brain for a story to tell.

“In the sea, deep in the sea- so deep that no living man can find it, there’s a castle. It’s a grand castle, made of driftwood and iron, and in it rules the greatest being there ever was. He is strong and powerful, and all the best sailors join him when they die to live in his castle, where they feast on the finest fish you’d ever taste.” He reached out, gently combing his fingers through the damp curls of Rickon’s hair. “Not only do they feast every night in this castle, but the food is served by mermaids. Beautiful mermaids, with scales on their tails that glisten in millions of colors-“

“Even red?”

Theon grinned down at the little Stark. “Even red. Every color of the rainbow, and then more. Colors you can’t even imagine. And the mermaids are the most beautiful creatures you’d ever see, with long, flowing hair in all sorts of colors to match their tails. They serve the food, they tend to those living in the castle. And outside of the castle are the krakens. Huge krakens, with golden skin that shines just like real gold. Maybe it is real gold. They are strong, unbelievably strong, and protect the castle from anyone or anything who would want to cause them harm.”

“Wha’s a kraken?” Rickon asked, growing visibly sleepy. His eyelids were drooping and he let out a small little yawn.

“A giant squid-“

“Like the ones you got on your shirt sometimes?”

“Yeah, like them, but huge. Giant and strong. The biggest things you’d ever see.”

“Bigger than Shaggy?” Rickon yawned again, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Much bigger than Shaggy. Ten times the size of Shaggy. Maybe even more. They’re massive creatures that few living men have ever seen.”

“Super big.” Rickon nodded slowly, finally closing his eyes. “Big, big squid.”

“That’s right. Big, big squid.” Theon smiled down at him, gently pulling his hand away from Rickon’s hair. “But they’re nice to good people and things.“

“‘m sleepy, Thee. Robb.” Rickon shifted, turning onto his side so his chest was pressed to Shaggydog’s back, wrapping his little arms around him. “Shaggy sleepy too.”

“I bet. You should go to sleep, so Shaggy can sleep too. He’ll keep you nice and safe.”

“Jus’ like a big, big squid.”

“Just like a big squid.” Theon agreed. “Goodnight, little Rickon.”

“Night night, Thee an’ Robb.”

"Goodnight, Rickon," Robb said, pushing the bangs back from his little brother's small face. Rickon turned his face up into the touch and let out a sleepy sigh. Theon and Robb left, clicking the light off behind them, and retreated to Robb's room. Theon hadn't slept in his own room since he returned, but neither was keen for him to.

Grey Wind and Queenie were waiting on the bed, curled with just enough room for Theon and Robb to join them.

“I want kids.” Theon murmured, more to himself than anyone else as he curled up against Robb. He wanted to be better than his father. He wanted to be like his mother, but always caring, not leaving his children to find their way alone with the guidance of a sister only two years older.

"We'll get them," Robb promised, "someday. We have Rickon right now," he said, grinning. "And the dogs." They were both quiet for a moment, just laying together, and then, "How many?"

“Five thousand.” Theon joked, looking up at his boyfriend with a loving smile. “Two. Just two.”

"Two would be perfect," Robb said, and he kissed him. He could never get enough of Theon, and his kisses.

Theon kissed him back, slow and gentle, his heart fluttering in his chest. “I love you,” He murmured against his lips. “So much.”

* * *

 

He'd been tracking the news, even as they fled to the depths of Essos. It wasn't easy, carting nine dogs and four men, but they did it.

Skinner was over being angry. He had fallen into a neutral state, but he knew the rage was simmering just below the surface, he could feel it, and every glimpse of the headlines sent it coursing through him. More than once, he'd thrown his phone against the wall.

He was sick, sick, sick of being angry and miserable and so fucking lonely all the damned time. He wanted Damon back, needed him back. He wanted the chill of the air and the breeze of it through his hair as they ran deep into the woods with dogs baying all around, Damon at his side and the sharp edge of his laughter in the dusk. Even Ramsay, with that amusement he always found in the cruelest things that Skinner had admired in him; he even missed him. Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn, sure, he'd like to have them back too, but... Gods, but Damon. Besides the hunting, he missed the feel of Damon around his cock and the way Damon liked to ride him, perpetually laughing, and his voice was a godssent siren's.

Right now, Damon was probably pissed off and surly in a prison cell, cursing his name. Ramsay would know where they had gone, and he wished he could convey to him that the girls too were safe, but he couldn't, and he'd likely never know. All Skinner could do was keep them safe, keep them sane; the dogs, and the other Boys.

But how could he do that, when he could hardly keep himself safe? Could hardly keep himself sane? All he could do was lay down and stare up, whether at the ceiling of some shitty motel or the sky as they camped out on a warm night. He would listen to the dogs keen and whine, serenade the stars with all their grief and confusion for minutes and hours and all damned night long, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't sleep anyways.

Sometimes he thought that Damon would love this. This, Essos, would be a great adventure to him. Skinner almost wished he could have taken his motorcycle; he and Damon used to drive it all around the countryside towns on nice days like these. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could almost feel Damon's hands on his waist, his chest pressed flush against his back, his excitable whoops of laughter carrying through the wind. But then he opened his eyes, and the spell was broken. Damon was hundreds, probably thousands of miles away now—Skinner didn't know exactly how far into Essos they were—and Skinner was left leading their little refugee party into the depths of a country that Damon had always spoken of with light in his eyes, speaking of golden beaches and sprawling deserts and world-reknown resorts. They had planned on taking a trip out here, one summer, yet here Skinner was without him.

Here Skinner was, moping like a sullen little cunt. Damon would laugh at him. Skinner could laugh at himself, but he didn't. He slung an arm off the bed, seized his phone off the cheap nightstand, and peered at the bright screen. 2:14 in the morning. Seven hells. He sat up, glanced over at the sleeping prostitute beside him, and down at the three dogs curled together on the thin carpet. Maude, Jez, and Willow. He was almost coming to think of Maude as his own, just the same way that Jez had been Damon's favorite, and of course Helicent was Ramsay's. Heli and the two Jeynes were in Ben's room, just next door, and Grunt and Luton shared a room across the hall with Sara, Kyra, and Alison. He wondered briefly what the girl's name beside him was; he didn't quite catch it last night.

It was of no matter to him, really. It wasn't Damon, and he didn't care. Normally they would be long gone by now, but this particular girl had been so satiated that she'd fallen asleep, and Skinner hadn't bothered to wake her. She was pretty and smelled of the kind of rose perfume that he'd grown accustomed to. It was a favorite amongst these girls. All these girls, though, and he hasn't found one that was as good a lay as Damon.

Skinner rose from the bed and padded, barefoot, to the dirty old window. Willow made a soft, sleepy sound and stretched out her paws, but didn't wake up. He stepped over her and grabbed up his pack of cigarettes from the windowsill, and a lighter. He had left half a bottle of beer here last night as well, and he took a swig from it. It tasted stale now, but it had already tasted like horse piss so it was a bit of an improvement.

The cigarette was dainty in his fingers, curling smoke off the end as it burned away. He looked at it for a long moment before puffing on it. He blew the smoke out over the window and watched it billow and spread across the surface. Outside, stray cats milled about, squabbling over a measly little rodent one had caught.

Cats.

Damon had always wanted cats.

Skinner shook the thought from his head. Damon wasn't here, he reminded himself, and he wouldn't have wanted those cats anyways. They were scrawny, dusty little things, and Damon had always had an eye for the more aesthetic type. Bengals and Savannah cats, cute little dainty creatures with tiny paws and big eyes, tortoiseshell beauties... Not those scraggly little beasts outside.

But he liked cats too, and he found himself crossing the room, heading outside dressed only in his boxers and an old t-shirt, and the cats were still there outside his window when he rounded the side of the building. There were four, and three fled as he approached but one stayed, hunkered down over its won portion of the mouse, and it hissed pathetically as he neared.

Ignoring it, Skinner sat down in the cool grass. Morning dewdrops soaked through the thin material of his boxers, but he ignored that as well and looked up at the sky. The cat sat back and considered him. After a moment, it deemed him acceptable and bent to gulp down its mouse with rapid little bites, never taking its eyes off him. When it had finished, it licked its lips, licked a paw, and cleaned its face and whiskers. Skinner watched it in his peripheral.

Overhead, the moon and stars were bright. There were fireflies here, blinking on and off across the sky and down in the grass. He trailed his gaze over them, taking his attention away from the cat, so it caught him off guard when soft fur brushed against his hand. The cat butted its head against him again, chirruped, and looked up at him.

"Hey, there," he said, and his voice was raspy from relative disuse. "Dirty thing."

It stepped up into his lap, and it really was dirty but it wasn't like he was wearing anything of value. Hells, if Damon was here, he'd be laughing at him. He stroked the cat, watched the fireflies, and tried to imagine that Damon was here, just inside, vacationing like they had always talked about. The more he thought of it, the greater an impossibility it seemed.


	82. Chapter 82

It was the day after graduation, a gorgeous, warm, sunny Sunday, and Theon woke up feeling the best he had in a long while. Sunlight streamed in the windows, lighting the room and making Robb’s hair and skin practically glow. His sweet boyfriend, his angel... Theon pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, smiling at him as his heart fluttered warmly in his chest. They were cuddled up under the sheets, naked bodies tangled together- they’d gotten a bit carried away the night before. “I love you.” Theon murmured to his sleeping boyfriend. Nothing was better than waking up to seeing Robb next to him. Nothing was a more beautiful sight than those pillowy lips parted just slightly, thick lashes fanned out over his cheeks. So pretty, so handsome, so beautiful and perfect and Theon wondered what made the Drowned God or the gods or whoever the fuck was in charge decide to finally be good to him and give him Robb Stark’s heart. 

He could hear the other Starks downstairs, mainly Rickon yelling in excitement about the party preparations, and he laughed softly as he heard Sansa and Arya at the base of the stairs arguing over who would wake Robb and him up. He kissed Robb’s head again, gently shaking him. 

“Wake up, love, before Arya comes and wakes you up instead.”

"Mmm... I'm up," Robb grumbled, half-asleep still, but he turned his face up and blinked his eyes open, gazing up at Theon's face, framed by a halo of morning light. "Oh. Beautiful," he said softly, eyes raking over every detail of his face.

“Yes you are.” Theon replied, teasing as he looked into Robb’s pretty blue eyes. “But if we don’t get up soon, one of your sisters is gonna come in and scream at us to hurry up.” 

"Hurry up for what?" Robb asked, but he sat up anyways and kissed Theon's cheek. Now that he was physically up, he could hear the squabbling downstairs.

“The graduation party, dumbass.” There was no real bite to his tone. The alarm clock read 11:00am, which meant the party began in an hour. “We have to get up and ready...” There was a glimmer in his eye. “Wanna shower together? It’ll take less time?” 

"Yeah," Robb murmured, hands on Theon's waist. "That sounds really good." He wouldn't mind if other things were done in the shower too, of course.

“Then get up, lazy.” Theon slipped out of bed, standing up. He went over to the closet to grab nice clothes for the both of them, laying them out on the end of the bed before going to the door just in time to meet Arya. 

She almost hit him in the door while barging in, ready to holler at them to get up, but stopped when she saw him standing there and Robb in the midst of getting out of bed. “Oh. Good morning.” 

"Morning, Ary," Robb greeted. She looked between the two of them with slight suspicion. 

"Hurry up and get downstairs," she said, and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Good thing we're saving time together then, hm?" Robb grinned over at Theon.

“As soon as you hurry up and get your ass over here.” Theon teased, reopening the door and heading down the hall to the bathroom to start the shower and heat up the water. 

"I'm coming, don't worry." He went after him, darting down the hall and into the bathroom behind Theon. He didn't meet anybody in the hall and didn't think his mother would be amused, but at least they were saving on the water bill. He chuckled at the thought, maybe a little melancholy because his father and Jon had still been around then, but— 

Theon was already stripped naked and waiting for him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey baby.” He was sat on the edge of the tub, feet in the water as it pooled up before swirling down the drain. “You’ve been gone so long, left me all wet in the shower, that I’ve turned into a kraken myself.” He wrapped his hand around his limp cock, giving it a little shake. “Look. I’ve even grown a tentacle.” 

"That's the worst joke you've ever made, ever, and I love you for it." Robb sat beside him, hand on Theon's thigh. "I wouldn't call that a tentacle. Makes it sound sticky and gross."

“It can be, if you touch it enough.” He teased, eyeing Robb’s cock once he’d stripped and sat down. “Oh look. You’ve got one too.” 

"Yeah?" Robb slid his hand down Theon's thigh, nearing his 'tentacle'. Frankly, if Theon never referred to it as such again, he'd be a very happy man.

“You know, we aren’t getting clean by sitting on the edge of the tub. We’ll be even dirtier if you make me spray ‘ink’ everywhere.” Theon snickered at the disgusted look on Robb’s face as he stood up, stepping into the stream of water. 

Robb followed, tugging the curtain shut, and he immediately turned and caught Theon's lips, the water falling over their heads. His hand slipped down Theon's belly, stroking fingers up his cock.

“Baby...” Theon purred against his lips, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Robb’s cock, stroking him to full hardness. He was hot and heavy in his hand, and Theon wanted to taste him. He almost shifted down to his knees, but decided against it. He wasn’t in the mood to drown. 

Robb could feel himself growing hard, and Theon in his hand was hard too. He brushed his thumb over the head and Theon made a soft sound. Robb knew they had to be fast, lest somebody come up to investigate, but he wanted to drag this moment out forever. Theon was sleek, wet against him and his lips were on his own, his cock in his hand, and Robb was happy.

Theon stroked Robb’s cock a little quicker, pulling away a moment to spit in his hand to cause less tugging friction. His own cock was throbbing with need and he bucked his hips ever so slightly as Robb stroked him, his whole body feeling melted with pleasure under the warm stream of water. 

Robb quickened his pace, stroking up and letting Theon fuck his hand, just as Theon was doing for him. Water dripped over their chests and down their faces; their sodden curls were plastered to their heads. 

"Thee," Robb murmured, quiet despite the muffling sound of the water.

“Feels good,” Theon replied, leaning back against the slippery shower wall and closing his eyes, relishing in the feeling of Robb’s cock in his hand, and Robb’s hand around his own cock. It felt brilliant, heavenly, and he reminded himself that they had to be quick. He could stay like this forever, but then the warm water would run out, and... cold showers sucked. “We gotta- we need to hurry up.” 

Robb let go of Theon's hard cock, taking his hand instead. He wrapped their hands around the both of their cocks, stroking them together, bracketing Theon against the wall with his body. The wet head of his cock slipped against Theon's, precum dripping.

“I- oh- oh fuck, Robb-“ Theon whimpered, eyes opening and rolling back. It felt good, so good. “I love you baby, gonna come if you keep that up...” He could feel their precome smearing onto their hands, and thanked the Drowned God they were in the shower so it would wash off quickly after they were done. 

"That's it," he murmured, moving faster. He could feel himself getting close, too, but he wanted Theon to cum first. Their cocks were achingly hard and Robb's head was swimming with lust. "Love you, Thee."

“Love you- love you too, Robb, fuck, I’m- baby, I’m gonna-“ He cut off as he bit his lip, muffling a loud moan as he came, cock twitching against Robb’s, come spurting out over both their fists. 

Robb groaned, watching with hooded eyes and he faltered in his own strokes of his cock, but Theon didn't, and moments later he was coming too. He panted, coasting down the high, and looked back up at Theon.

Theon lifted his hand, covered in come, and licked it off slowly, keeping eye contact with Robb as he did. It was salty, bitter as always, but he didn’t mind. 

Robb let out another soft groan at the sight, and pulled Theon in for another deep kiss. He could taste himself and Theon mixed on his lips and tongue. Gods, he loved him.

"We should clean up," he said, thinking of how long they had already been in the shower.

“Yeah. Probably.” Theon nodded, but stayed there kissing Robb for a while before pulling away to actually clean off. They both finished quick enough, wrapping up in fuzzy grey towels before hurrying back to Robb’s room to get dressed. 

He was able to ignore them in the shower, focusing more on cleaning his own body, but when Robb was faced with the scars in his room, he was struck with a wave of grief. Theon dried brusquely, dropping the towel, and the full of extent of them were revealed. Robb couldn't help but drag his gaze over them, morose. 

"Do they ever hurt, still?" he asked softly.

Theon took a moment to realize what he was asking before his smile dropped from his face. He didn’t like to think of his scars, to look at them. “Yeah. Sometimes. It’s not- it’s not really painful, they just... I don’t know how to explain it. And my fingers...” he held up his left hand. “That feels even weirder. Phantom finger syndrome.” He joked weakly. It really did feel weird, and his grip strength had greatly decreased. He was just glad it wasn’t his dominant hand. 

"How are the nails growing, on the other hand?" he inquired, stepping towards him and taking his hands. "They look a lot better." He made a mental note to look into a doctor for his other hand, but this one looked like it'd be all right again in a month or two. Ramsay hadn't taken the nails out by the root, so they were growing fine.

“They’re pretty good, yeah. Don’t really hurt anymore, so...” He shrugged, but didn’t pull his hand away. Didn’t flinch. “Sometimes everything aches, y’know, like when I can’t sleep through the night and it feels like I’m down there all over again... but it’s okay. I’m okay.” 

"Wake me up, if you feel like that. Okay?" Robb looked into his eyes, searching. "I don't want you to feel alone, if you're feeling like that. I want you to feel safe, and loved, because you are. I love you."

“I know, Robb. I know. But I... I also need to be able to deal with things on my own. I need to. I can’t hide behind you, as- as much as I love you.” He gently pulled his hand away, turning to get dressed. “I feel safe with you at my side, always.” 

Robb tried not to feel hurt; Theon had a point. A really good point. What if he wasn't around one time? Theon did have to be able to handle it... 

"You're strong, Thee. I do trust you to be okay. I just..." Robb sighed, picked up his own clothes, and they dressed in silence. Afterwards, Robb put a hand out to stop Theon from leaving just yet. "I need to back off a bit, don't I?"

His eyes went wide. “W-What? No! No, you’re fine, Robb, you’re- you’re perfect, no!” He stared at him in shock for a moment before pulling him into a hug. “No. You’re perfect. I love you.” 

"I love you too. So much. More than anything." At these words, Grey Wind lifted his head off the floor and stared at Robb, deeply offended. Robb laughed. "Besides you, buddy."

“We should go downstairs though.” Theon took his hand, leading him back out the door and down to the kitchen. Catelyn was pulling a cake out of the fridge with an annoyed look, and Theon couldn’t help but burst out laughing upon seeing why. 

The cake was blue and white, very pretty, and had ‘Congratulations Robb & Theon!’ written on it in fancy lettering. That itself was all fine, but below their names, someone had gone in and sloppily added ‘& Jon’ in very poor handwriting. 

"That was me and Ary," Robb whispered, grinning. "Can't exclude my other best friend, can I? He's coming, I made sure of it."

“That- Robb, that looks horrible.” Theon snorted. “I- are you sure Rickon didn’t do it?”

“Wha’d I do?” Little Rickon popped up next to Theon, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

"Don't be rude! It's nothing, Rickon. Thee's just being mean about me and Ary's artwork." Robb picked Rickon up to show him the cake.

“That looks horrible!” Rickon repeated what Theon had said, giggling and clapping his hands. “Bad Robb!” 

Theon snorted again, holding back laughter. “That’s right. You tell him.” 

"You guys are both rude!" Robb set Rickon down again, and the boy ran right to Theon and grabbed at his hand. 

"Mommy's got pretzels!" he announced. "C'mon!"

“Alright!” Theon acted as excited as he could and followed the little Stark, flashing Robb a grin from over his shoulder. As Rickon led him outside, he was struck by how nicely the yard looked. There were white tents covering tables, and balloons hung from each pole of the tent, along with streamers and other such things. 

Jon was already outside, standing with Ygritte and Arya. Ghost and Nymeria stood at their heels. Sansa was across the yard with Lady and Margaery.

As they drew near, Arya looked up and smirked at them. "You're finally up! You both showered...? That was fast."

"Boys take less time," Robb said, but Jon and Ygritte were exchanging knowing looks.

“Yeah. Boys take less time.” Theon repeated, grinning. He scooped up Rickon in his arms, resting him on his hip. “Hey Jon, Ygritte.” 

"Hey, Theon," Jon greeted.

"I'm proud of you! You showed that bastard, eh?" Ygritte grinned, face flush with joy. "He's gonna rot away in a jail cell, and you're home free! You're graduated!"

As much as he liked Ygritte, the subject of Ramsay made him instantly uncomfortable, especially while he was holding Rickon. He didn’t need the little guy knowing too much about the trial. He ignored his discomfort as best he could, however, and smiled at her. “Thanks Ygritte.” 

“Bastard?” Rickon questioned, brows furrowing, and Theon gasped so loud it was comical. 

“Rickon, no! Bad word!” 

"Rickon, why don't you go play with Shaggy?" Robb suggested, pointing to where the black wolfdog was romping about with Summer and Grey Wind. Queenie was bounding about with them, looking joyous; the huge dogs were all very careful with her. 

"Yeah! You can even bring Ghost with you!" Jon added, sweetening the deal.

Rickon and Theon exchanged looks, and the little Stark huffed in annoyance as Theon put him down. He looked from Theon to Robb to Jon to Ygritte, huffing again before running over to the dogs and lunging at Shaggy. 

“How’ve you two been?” Theon asked, giving Ygritte a hug now that his arms were free. 

"Good! Jon's taking me on a trip home next week, up way North! Hoping to see some polar bears!"

"Polar bears?" Robb echoed. 

"Yeah, apparently there's a bunch where she's from," Jon said.

Ygritte was hoping to become a wildlife photographer, Robb recalled. She was going to be attending college for wildlife science and photography.

“Polar bears- they eat people.” Theon deadpanned, furrowing his brows. Ygritte snickered at him and shook her head. 

“Not so long as you don’t piss ‘em off.” 

"I've never heard of a polar bear eating anybody," Robb said, looking quizzically at them both. 

"There was one," Jon said, " a hiker, last year. Thoros something. He was attacked and killed."

"Damn. Don't get too close, then."

Theon snorted. “Yeah, don’t get too close.” He was about to talk again when Rickon came over riding on Shaggydog’s back, nearly knocking him over. 

“He’s a horse!” Rickon exclaimed. Queenie was at Shaggy’s heels, jumping up at Theon until he picked her up. 

"That's some horse!" Jon said in wondrous amazement, kneeling down in front of him. Shaggydog licked his face. "When did you learn how to ride, Rickon? That's so cool!"

“Just now!” Rickon looked thrilled, climbing off of Shaggydog to stumble forward and give Jon a hug. “It is cool!”

“Very cool!” Theon agreed, leaning against Robb with his little puppy in his arms. 

"Good job, Rickon!" Robb praised, while Jon returned the hug. Catelyn brought out the cake, and Robb was glad to see that she hadn't 'fixed' it—his edit was still there. She placed the cake on the table beside the bowls of chips and pretzels and other snacks, and sliced it into pieces. 

By the grill, Yara was pulling the last of dinner off and piling it onto serving plates. Hot dogs, burgers, grilled chicken, and even mutton chops for Theon. Daenerys was lingering nearby, keeping a wary eye on the romping wolfdogs, and she had three Komodo dragons on harnesses and leashes.

Theon kissed Robb on the cheek before walking over to his sister, taking quietly to Queenie on the way. 

“Hey, Theon.” Yara grinned at him, and Theon smiled back. He would’ve hugged her but she was busy with the grill and he had his arms full of Pomeranian. 

“Hey, Yara.” He said, and Queenie yipped as well. He shifted her to be held in just one arm and reached out for a mutton chop. 

One of the dragons was following Queenie with it's eyes, and Daenerys nudged it with her foot. "Drogon, no!" she scolded. "Not food!"

"That's hot!" Yara warned, despite knowing full well that her brother wouldn't listen to her. "I only took that off the grill a minute ago!"

“Don’t eat Queenie!” Theon snapped, giving the Komodo a filthy look. He lifted the chop up to his mouth and bit in, cursing at how hot it was. He forced himself to chew and swallow, dropping it down onto a paper plate. Queenie leaned her head toward it, trying to get to it, and he pulled her away. “Queenie, no!” 

"Sorry!" Daenerys said, nudging the dragon back again. "He's in his rebellious stage."

"Theon!" Robb called, jogging over. Grey Wind was at his heels, and the dog bounded right past him to sniff at the dragons. Robb's gaze followed and his jaw slackened. "How'd you get those?"

"I found them as eggs, and hatched them," Daenerys said proudly. Her and Yara exchanged glowing looks.

Robb stared a moment longer, then turned back to Theon. "Thee. Uh, Yara too. Your... Uncle is here."

“Our un- Euron? Euron? Why the fuck is he here?” Theon’s brows furrowed. Why the fuck would Euron be there? How did he even know? “Yara, what the fuck?” 

"How did he find out?" Yara asked, aghast. 

"I don't know. But my mother just said that he's here, and he's looking for you two," Robb replied. "He's out front right now, not back here yet.'

Theon grimaced. Euron wasn’t someone he wanted to see. As a child, his mother had done everything in her power to keep that specific uncle away from him. Euron had tried to drug him as a kid, had dropped him and injured him to the point of needing stitches. He’d always made Theon uncomfortable and insecure, too, especially after his brothers died. “I guess we should go see him then. Robb, can you come?” 

"You don't have to see him," Robb said. "I can always send the dogs after him. Technically, he's trespassing. He wasn't invited."

“Yara lives with him. We can’t just chase him away with dogs.” Theon gave him a look, picking a piece off the cooling mutton chop to feed to Queenie. “Come with me? Please?”

"Yeah. Of course." He brought Grey Wind along nonetheless, and Yara and Daenerys trailed after them. The Komodo dragons' feet made soft scuffing sounds in the grass. They went around the house to the front yard, where Euron Greyjoy was arguing loudly with Sansa. Guiltily, Robb realized he hadn't even noticed her leave the backyard. 

"If he wanted you here, he would have invited you!" Sansa snapped, jabbing a finger into Euron's chest.

“Sansa, it’s okay!” Theon called, and she went silent and turned to look at him.

“Thee-“

“It’s okay. I promise.” He offered her a smile smile, clutching his puppy snugly to his chest as he approached his uncle. “Euron.” 

"Little Theon," he greeted, sneering. "I read about you in the news. Congratulations on growing some balls. Who knew all it would take was a bit of emasculation?"

Theon winced and looked down at the ground instead of at his uncle’s smug expression. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t fucking emasculated.” 

"You got fucked, didn't you?" He didn't wait for an answer, and instead turned to Robb, who was grinding his teeth in fury. "You've done it too, haven't you?" Finally, back to Yara and Daenerys. "But you... You've gone and gotten yourself a hot piece of ass."

“I got raped.” Theon snapped back, the word tasting Sour on his tongue. “And don’t- don’t talk to Robb like that. Or Yara. What are you doing here?” 

"I came to see you. Congratulate you. Like I'm doing."

"You're not welcome," Robb snapped. Grey Wind began to growl. Sansa had backed off, towards Yara and Daenerys, just in case things got ugly. 

"Yeah, you can fuck off now," Yara added.

“Congratulate me on being tortured?” Theon wished he was surprised. “Fuck off.” 

"Nah, not that!" Euron spat on the ground. "On graduating. That's what this is, ain't it? A graduation party?"

“Yeah. Thanks.” Theon replied dryly, narrowing his eyes as he looked back up at him. “Now why are you really here?” 

"That's all," he shrugged. "Just wanted to see little Theon."

"You were looking for Yara, too," Robb said. Euron glanced at him. 

"She's my niece, ain't she? Why shouldn't it?"

"You see me at home, every day," Yara snapped. "You're here for Theon, don't lie."

“I’m not little.” Theon added. Queenie yipped in agreement before growling, and he turned to Sansa. “Sans, can you take Queenie out back? She’s getting stressed and I don’t want her worried.” 

"Yeah, of course," Sansa said. She took Queenie and headed off back, sending a worried glance over her shoulder. 

"You go, too," Yara said to Daenerys. "I'm fine." Daenerys followed after Sansa, the dragons trotting along beside her on their leashes. 

"Aw, why are you sending everybody away?" Euron pretended to be hurt. "I'm really just here to say hello to my favorite nephew. No other reason."

“You don’t have any other nephews.” Theon huffed, stepping closer to Robb so he could hug his arm, missing Queenie’s fuzzy warmth. 

"Course not. They're dead," he said dismissively. "And fuck em. You survived, didn't you?" He moved closer, too close, and they could smell the alcohol on his breath now. "But maybe, just maybe. You're thinking it too, I know." He grinned slyly. "Maybe, it shouldn't have been them. Maybe it should have been you. Right?"

Euron laughed in his face and backed away just as Robb took a swing at him. 

"Fuck you!" 

"Go to hell!"

"Which one?" Euron asked, still laughing.

“Robb, no!” Theon tugged at his arm, pulling him back. “If- If you’re gonna lash out, you can go to the back too. Remember what I said this morning?” He looked at his boyfriend with sad eyes. He needed to be able to handle himself, to fight for himself. 

"Is Little Theon fending for himself for once?" Euron drawled, eyeing them. Yara clenched her fists but didn't move or say anything, having figured what Theon was getting at. Robb did the same. "Little Theon's got balls after all?"

“I’ve always had balls,“ He snapped, pushing down the growing fear in the pit of his stomach. “Not that you’d know what that’s like.”

"Wouldn't I?" Euron grabbed his crotch and made a lewd gesture. "Feels like I've got 'em. Hey, Yara, how'd that pretty girl of yours like some real cock?"

"Fuck off," Yara snapped, furious.

Theon’s glare darkened. “Th-this is why our mom kept us away from you. Leave Yara alone. Stop being gross.”

Euron leaned in close again, his rank breath fanning over Theon's face. "Why don't you make me, Little Theon?"

Theon leaned back away from him, heart hammering unpleasantly in his chest. “N-no- you’re an adult, you should- you need to act like it. And- and stop calling me that! I’m not little.” 

"Everything about you is little. Not much of a man, are you?" He moved forward, following Theon as he attempted retreat. 

"Go home, Euron. You're drunk," Yara said curtly.

“I am a- a man. And I’m not little.” Theon snapped, taking a step back. “What do you want?” 

"I want you to be a man, Theon! Grow the fuck up, quit whining about what everybody's done to you, and take some responsibility! Little Theon, always crying! That hasn't changed since you were four!"

Theon whimpered pathetically, eyes going wide as his uncle raised his voice. “I-I-“ He stammered, at a loss for words. Always crying. Didn’t Ramsay hate that? Ramsay and his boys? They got so sick of his crying, his begging and whining and whimpering. “I’m sorry- sorry.” He mumbled, barely audible, his earlier confidence fading quickly. 

"Oh, you're sorry? Sorry? Sorry for what?" Euron demanded, slurring every word but still managing to get them across in a sharp, biting manner. Robb drew in a sharp, furious breath and took Theon's trembling hand, but held his tongue. Yara was struggling to do the same; she could tell Theon wanted to handle this himself.

“I’m n-not crying, I’m- stop acting like this!” Theon demanded, squeezing Robb’s hand tightly. He didn’t understand why Euron was there, or why he was acting this way. 

"I just want the best for you, Little Theon! I'm your uncle, aren't I? I was always your favorite," he sneered, knowing full well that was a lie. "Uncle Euron wants his Little Theon to grow the fuck up! He's sick of seeing Little Theon whining all over the news sites!"

“I- I was raped and tortured and starved for months! Months! I have- I have a reason to whine, thank you very much!” Theon argued. “And I’m not little, and I’m not yours!” 

"Not mine? What, Balon wasn't my brother? Or, are you not Balon's?" Euron paused, still sneering. "That would explain a lot."

“Don’t you have a- a sister in law to go assault, or something?” Theon snapped, the hand that wasn’t holding Robb’s balled up into a fist. 

"She's dead, Little Theon. Don't you remember?" he said cruelly, face twisting. "Oh, that's right... You were busy getting fucked up the ass by your boyfriend."

“Uncle killed her because you got her pregnant. I was a kid, I wasn’t getting... I’m- I’m not talking about my- you never touched my mom- never, you never did!” 

"Didn't I?" He took a step back, eyes narrow and cold. "Balon wouldn't have stopped me, if I wanted to. Maybe I did."

“No.” He snarled. “She- She never would’ve let you. You didn’t touch her. Take that back, now.” 

"What are you gonna do about it, Little Theon?" Euron threw his arms out to the side, stumbling in a 'come at me' gesture.

“You didn’t fucking touch my mom.” He snapped, pulling his hand away from Robb and stepping forward to shove at his uncle. Theon wasn’t strong, and the shove was weak, but Euron was drunk enough that it caused him to stumble back a bit. 

"That's it, Theon!" Euron jeered, straightening up. "Can you take it, too." He lunged forward, aimed to strike Theon, and Robb pulled Theon out of the way so Euron stumbled again, nearly falling. 

"Leave, now," Robb ordered. "Unless you want five more of these coming to say hi." He pointed to Grey Wind, who was stood in a protective stance and growling fiercely. Euron eyed the dog and Theon, clearly weighing his options.

Theon was angry, tears welling in his eyes. It was supposed to be a good day. A happy day. It had been until his stupid fucking uncle showed up. He didn’t think, instead lunging toward his uncle and tackling him to the ground- something that wouldn’t have been possible if his uncle were sober. He lifted his right fist, slamming it down into his face. 

Yara let out a laugh, hardly daring to believe it, while Robb flip-flopped between wild amusement, pride, and fear for what Euron would do. He moved to grab Theon aside, but stopped a second before making contact. 

Euron was laughing. He was stunned at first, touching his lip where it was split, but then he started to laugh. Maybe it was because Euron was drunk, but whatever the case, Robb was not expecting that.

Theon stared down at him, feeling the anger heat and bubble even more in his belly, and then he hit him again. And again. He felt the tears drip from his eyes onto his cheeks as he let himself feel angry- as he allowed himself to feel angry without being scared of punishment. He was human. He was allowed to feel this way, he was allowed to be mad, and it wasn’t his fault. He punched Euron again, hot blood smearing onto his knuckles. 

Euron just kept laughing, up until he shoved Theon off him, toppling him to the ground. Robb immediately went to his side. Euron's face was a mess of blood and bruises, but his teeth were white and cruel as he bared them in a grin. "Little Theon does have some bite, doesn't he?" He stood, and to his credit he only swayed a little. "I'm starting to feel unwelcome."

Theon stumbled to his feet, using Robb’s hand to help himself up. “Leave, Uncle. Now.” 

"I'm going," he said. "Don't want Little Theon to have to make me, do I?" He turned on his heel and strode away as best as he could, hopefully not out to drive in his condition. Personally, Robb didn't care; let him crash, so long as nobody else got hurt. Vile man. 

"That was awesome, Theon!" Yara praised, face flushed with excitement. "He's gonna be pissed as a hells when he's sobered up, but damn!"

"Yeah," Robb agreed, smiling. "That was something."

“Let him be pissed.” Theon grumbled, turning to wrap his arms around Robb, resting his head on his shoulder. “My knuckles hurt.” 

"They'll do that," Yara said dismissively, at the same time Robb immediately began fussing about first aid kits and cleaning the split knuckles.

“Baby, I’m fine.” Theon assured him, leaning in to softly kiss along his jaw. “I’ll just wash my hands. Then we can go eat cake.” 

"All right." Robb relished in the soft touch, taking Theon's hands. He was careful not to touch the split knuckles. "I'll make sure mom saves you the piece with your name on it?"

“My name is gonna be on multiple pieces. It’s not written small on there.” Theon pulled away a bit to pout at him, barely noticing as Yara patted him on the back and headed around the house again. He wiped his eyes, glad the tears had stopped quickly. “And aren’t you gonna come help me clean up?” 

"Of course I am." They went inside, and in the bright light of the bathroom, Robb carefully inspected the cleaned wounds. They looked much less daunting now that they were cleaned, and Robb was comfortable in merely dabbing a cotton ball of antiseptic fluid on them. 

"Looks like most of the blood was from Euron. You really did a number on his mouth," Robb chuckled.

“Maybe he’ll stop talking for a while then.” Theon joked, his voice soft. Yara must’ve told Sansa they were inside, because he soon heard the pit-pat of little doggie paws and Queenie was running into the bathroom, a wiggly little ball of fluff. Theon beamed down at her, letting Robb put small bandages on a few little scrapes before picking up his puppy. “Hi Queenie. Hi baby girl. Yes, daddy is okay. I’m okay. Yes, I missed you very much. Yes I did. I did.” He cooed, giggling as she licked all over his face. 

"She's here to make it all better," Robb said, grinning. "Queenie to the rescue!" He stroked her little furry head, and she licked his fingers. "I bet you she would have torn Euron to shreds, if you'd let her."

“Oh yes. That’s why I sent her away.” Theon snorted, rolling his eyes before he smooched her little head again. “You wanna go back outside, Queenie? Yeah? Wanna eat some cake?”

The dog yipped and wagged her tail, her whole body quivering with the force of the movement. Robb peeked out the bathroom window. 

"Looks like people are finishing up their food," he said. "So we should head back out."

“I love you.” He cooed to the little pup. “I love, love, love you! Yes I do! Yes I do, little baby, tiny baby, I love you.” He kissed all over her tiny little head and she kissed back all over his face, squirming happily in his arms as they headed back outside.


	83. Chapter 83

Conviction day. The words settled like a thick blanket over Ramsay, smothering and overheated, choking. He knew, of course, and had known since before they even went to trial, but... It was the last day he would ever see his pup, because today he was surely bound to get life in prison, if not the death penalty. Ramsay rather hoped that his father would step in and save him from that, but he didn't know anymore. In the bunk above, he could hear Damon let out a sigh and the bed creaked as he turned over. Ramsay didn't know exactly what time it was, but from the lack of guards down this end and the general dark of the hall outside, he guessed it was either extremely late or extremely early.

"Damon. You're still up?"

“Yes.” Damon slipped off of his bunk, landing gracefully on his feet on the floor before moving onto Ramsay’s bunk instead, swinging a long leg over to straddle his waist. “I’m up. And you’re going to fuck me.” 

"I am?" Ramsay's hands went to Damon's hips, and his icy eyes trailed over his body. "I'm a bit bigger than Skinner, you know."

Damon was hard already, wearing just his underwear. He couldn’t sleep. He’d drifted off for a little bit and been stuck with dreams of Skinner- his hands, his cock, his mouth. Ramsay wasn’t Skinner by any means, but it felt good to have eyes on him again, to have hands resting on his hips. “I know. I don’t care.” He rolled his hips, grinding his ass down against the soft bulge in Ramsay’s boxers. 

"Fuck," Ramsay hissed, and he rolled his hips against Damon's ass, feeling his cock stir in his underwear. Damon was lithe, pretty, staring down at him with his eyes clouded and his lips parted like he was ready to start moaning out already. Damon was built for sex, Ramsay thought, and it was common knowledge between them that he was a bit of a whore. He was living up to that now, with the bulge of his cock outlined in his boxers, and his ass rubbing on Ramsay's cock.

“I miss getting fucked.” Damon stated, a small smirk playing on his lips. He missed Skinner’s cock, long and pierced and perfect. He knew Ramsay’s was thicker, but he could take it. “So fucking horny and I can’t do jack shit about it. But you’re gonna help me, aren’t you?” 

He lifted himself a little, squirming out of his underwear and tossing it to the floor. His cock was flushed dark pink, wet and shiny at the tip, stubble growing in at the base. He hadn’t been able to shave. There was light hair growing in on his legs as well- he hated it. He’d always planned on getting laser removal for his body hair, but... he doubted prison had that option. He reached down, taking hold of Ramsay’s wrists and moving his hands back to grab his ass. 

“Skinner always liked it. You’ve obviously looked at it too, you called it a bubble butt once. Called me a twink. I didn’t forget that little conversation, Rams.” He wiggled his ass, moaning at the feeling of hands grabbing at it and a hard cock beneath him. 

"I wouldn't expect you to. You listen in on anything involving you, so long as it's a compliment." Ramsay squeezed Damon's ass, appreciating it, and he lifted Damon up to scoot him forward to sit on his stomach, and throw off his own underwear. Damon's cock, flushed and pretty, was almost in his face and it was tantalizing, but Ramsay had never been much of a cocksucker. He figured Damon would want to get on with the main event anyways; he wasn't Skinner, with the piercings and nonchalant attitude, but he knew he was better. He'd fuck Damon until it was out of his system and he was back to being the sly little bastard that Ramsay called his best friend.

“To be fair, it’s rare to hear anything about me that’s not a compliment. I’m fucking gorgeous, so- ah, fuck.” He cursed as he shifted back and felt Ramsay’s cock press up against him, hard and thick and hot. “You should get this monster pierced.” He teased, reaching back to wrap a hand around it, stroking it for a moment before reaching his hand up to suck his fingers into his mouth instead, getting them wet so he’d be able to prep himself. 

"If we don't die, I'll try and find somebody to do it while we're in prison," he said wryly. In all honesty, they'd end up fucking a lot in prison, he bet. If it would help Damon stop whining, and therefore help his own sanity, maybe he actually would look into it.

“You’ll lose your dick if they do it wrong.” He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and reached behind himself, wincing slightly as he slid a single finger in, working it up to the second knuckle. He twisted and curved it, working himself open until he could fit a second finger, and then a third- the whole time wishing it was Skinner’s fingers instead of his own. 

Ramsay watched, making no moves to take over. Damon seemed determined enough, and he was already three deep, so why bother? Damon worked himself, all but fucking himself on his own hand, and Ramsay's cock was achingly hard.

“Ready for this sweet ass, Rams?” Damon teased, voice thick with lust, cheeks flushed pink. He took another few minutes to prep himself before withdrawing his fingers, smearing the remaining saliva onto Ramsay’s cock, and lining it up with his hole. He moaned at the feeling, the blunt head pushed up against him, not even inside yet. He missed it. He wished there were a piercing, wished it was Skinner, but he’d take what he could get. He grinned wickedly down at Ramsay before dropping down, taking all of him in with one swift movement. 

"Fuck," Ramsay groaned, and he took Damon's hips again and thrust his hips up, taking little care in how he moved. He hated this position though, hated having Damon on top, and he slid his hands up from his hips to his waist to take him and flip their positions, so Damon was pressed face down in the mattress and Ramsay hovered over him, cock buried in the heat of his ass.

Damon moaned obscenely loud, ass sticking up in the air, spread wide open around Ramsay’s cock. It felt good- a little bit uncomfortable, but still good, so good, overwhelmingly good. “Fuck me, Rams, c’mon. Hard.” 

"You're a tight little slut," Ramsay remarked, teasing him. He drove in deeper, fucking him hard so his ass bounced with the force of it.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Damon hissed. “Fuck me like I’m your stupid pet. Harder, you fucker.” He wanted it hard, rough, bruising. He closed his eyes, letting himself pretend it was Skinner. Skinner grabbing his hips, pounding him senseless, calling him a slut. 

Ramsay growled, digging his fingers in for grip on Damon's hips as he pounded him, dragging hot little sounds from Damon's throat. He hadn't kissed him and he wouldn't, wouldn't touch him like he had Theon, but he could make Damon cum. He was good at that. He knew where to aim, and he dragged the head of his cock over that spot.

Damon moaned like a cheap whore, face pressed into the hard mattress, pressing his ass back to meet each brutal thrust. He was going to be horribly sore after, but he didn’t care- he wanted it, the bruising thrusts now hitting his prostate and making him mewl like a kitten. There were stars behind his eyelids, hands curled into fists gripping the thin sheets, and fuck he felt good. So good- horribly, painfully good. He wanted more, and he kept pushing his ass back to get it, harder and faster. Ramsay was plowing his prostate now, as if he knew exactly where to hit- and Damon was sure he did. 

Leaning over him, Ramsay pressed a hand to the small of Damon's back, holding him down, and hiked his hips up to reach deeper angles. He couldn't see, but from the sound of it he guessed Damon was leaking onto the sheets that Ramsay would then have to lay in. 

"Oh— Fuck!" he swore, closing his eyes as Damon clenched around him. He slammed his hips against Damon's and jerked the bed.

Damon almost wanted to tell him to shut up, he quiet so he could pretend it was Skinner. Ramsay’s voice was ruining the illusion so he ignored it as best he could, moaning and panting and wiggling his ass. He appreciated the hand on his back, keeping him pinned down. He felt like a cheap whore. Was Skinner out fucking whores? Pretty boys and girls that were warm and tight and hot around his cock, ones that moaned loud and let him do whatever they wanted? 

“Skinner...” Damon moaned, low and needy, reaching back to stroke his leaking cock. 

Ramsay barely paused. He wasn't surprised, or hurt. Instead, he took the hint and bit back his growled curses and groans, fucking Damon harder, but silently.

“That’s it, fuck yes, that’s it-“ Damon’s eyes rolled back behind his eyelids, sloppily fisting his cock, imagining Skinner- his pretty blonde boy, with his sharp tongue and perfect body. 

Ramsay pulled out, teasing the head of his cock against his wet hole, letting Damon whine at the empty feeling before thrusting back in, hard. "Bitch," he cursed, unable to keep it in. Damon had clenched around him as he thrust back in.

“Shh!” Damon snapped, annoyed when Ramsay’s voice interrupted his fantasies. 

Ramsay promptly spanked him. A red mark blossomed on his ass cheek, and he fucked him more forcefully.

Damon practically fucking howled, his cock twitching and throbbing, nearly coming from the slap alone. It felt good, reminded him of the playful snacks to his ass Skinner would sometimes give him. He turned his head to press his face fully into the pillow to muffle the obscene sounds he was making. 

Oh, he liked that? Ramsay smirked, and did it again. The slap of his hand against Damon's skin rang out loud, and with every contact, Damon jerked and squirmed, and clenched around Ramsay's cock. 

Damon lost it, jerking and moaning and bucking his hips, pushing his ass back against each brutal thrust. It felt good, so good. He cried out Skinner’s name, muffled by the pillow as he came hard. He hadn’t been fucked in so long, and all his orgasms were the result of unsatisfactory jerk-off sessions. This was good, it was so much, so overwhelming- he was seeing stars. 

Ramsay groaned, fucking Damon into the mattress. He was tight, so tight, and making hot little whines and moans as Ramsay continued to abuse his prostate. He was close himself, could feel his release building.

Damon was so fucking sensitive, achingly so as Ramsay continued plowing him through his orgasm. He let the hand stroking his cock return to clutch the sheets tightly, whining and whimpering in discomfort as Ramsay continued to fuck him once he came down from his orgasm. 

When he came, Ramsay thrust deep one last time and groaned softly. He spilled into him, and pulled out as his cock softened, letting Damon relax against the mattress as cum leaked from his hole.

Despite the rather uncomfortable end to their fucking, Damon felt good- sated. He could feel the come in him, dripping out of him and momentarily wondered how the fuck Ramsay had so much semen to spill. Had he not come at all since they’d been locked up? 

“Are you a fucking horse dude?” Damon grunted, ignoring the sticky wetness on the mattress beneath him. “Or have you really not jacked off the whole time we’ve been here? You’ve got me filled up like a fucking pastry.” 

"I know you like the feeling," Ramsay said dismissively. No, he hadn't jacked off. Damon often did, moaning like a whore by himself in the top bunk, but Ramsay had always been more oriented towards pleasure with others. It just wasn't the same by himself.

“Skinner comes more. He comes so much that his sperm leaks out of my mouth.” Damon bragged, obviously exaggerating. He sat up after a moment, grimacing at the slimy come stains. 

Ramsay eyed the mess in slight disgust, but held his tongue. "Sure he does, if he's fucking your mouth," he sneered.

“He doesn’t fuck my mouth often. If he did, I wouldn’t be able to talk.” Damon briefly considered that the ‘not often’ was likely to turn to ‘never again.’

Ramsay said it for him. "It looks like you're going to be stuck with me for a while, though. Me, or other inmates. Assuming we don't die."

He grimaced. “Other inmates. Gross. As if I’d let any nasty, filthy criminals touch me.” 

"Just me, then." Ramsay sat back, settling on a clean spot of the mattress. "...I do hope we don't die. My father will have... He will have done something. He won't let me die."

“You? What about me? I don’t wanna die either.” Damon pouted, grabbing Ramsay’s pillow and using it to wipe off the come smeared on his belly. 

"If I don't, you won't either. I'm the one pup is blaming for everything, aren't I?" Ramsay scoffed. "We never should have hunted him. Too valuable." He let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the frame of the bed.

“Not valuable. It’s just that people care for that piece of shit for some reason.” He paused. “Including you.” 

"He was valuable." To me, Ramsay thought, but he would never voice it. "Look at him. Taking down the Bolton Bastard and his Boys!" He gave a humorless chuckle.

“Not all of them.” Damon gave him a pointed look. Not Skinner, Luton, Grunt, or Ben Bones. No. Only the bastard himself, as well as Damon, Sour Alyn, and Yellow Dick. But of course, Damon and Skinner weren’t in the same place. Of fucking course. 

"No. Not all of us... but that's not a bad thing." Ramsay glanced at him. "Who knows? Maybe they'll rescue us."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “No. No, Skinner wouldn’t. Skinner is smart. Then all of us would end up here. Though, at least I’d get fucked properly with him here.” 

"Unless he went somewhere else. We'd be lucky to end up together," Ramsay countered. "If my father does anything, he will get us together though, and keep us alive."

“I miss Skinner.” Damon said after a moment in silence. “I don’t want to cuddle you.” 

"That's good, because I don't want to cuddle you either..." Ramsay exhaled sharply. "I miss my pup. I miss my girls."

“Your pup got us locked up in here. That stupid little cunt. He’s sending us all to the fucking guillotine.” Damon cursed, looking away to glare down at his lap. 

"We won't die. We can't. My father won't let me, won't let us." Besides that, he didn't think his pup wanted them dead. Well, not him, anyways. There must be some element of love still there, still buried in him somewhere.

“Let’s hope so.” He looked back at him, standing up from the mattress. Come began leaking out of him, dripping down his thighs. “If we die, I’ll kill you.” He paused. “That doesn’t really make sense, but- I will. I don’t want to die Ramsay.” He climbed up onto his bunk. “Goodnight.”


	84. Chapter 84

"All rise." 

The people in the stands rose, and the judge entered, taking his seat. 

"You may be seated."

And they all sat. Robb took Theon's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it.

"Soon," he murmured. "It'll be over soon. You'll never have to see him again." For when Ramsay and the boys had been brought in, he had tried once again to speak to Theon. 

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" the judge asked. 

The head juror rose. "Yes, we have."

"The defendants will now rise."

Ramsay, Damon, Yellow Dick, Sour Alyn, and attorney Locke all stood. Each one of them looked tense and anxious, except for Damon and Ramsay.

Theon stared at them, nerves on edge. Ramsay looked back at him. Sharp blue eyes, ice blue eyes, eyes with love in them. Love. He hated it, hated seeing it in the way Ramsay looked at him, and it made him feel sick. How could he? How could he look at him like that, after all he’d done? Regardless, Theon didn’t look away. 

"How do you find the defendants?" 

"We accept the defendants' plea deal, and find the defendants guilty on all charges," the head juror said.

A smirk spread across Ramsay's face. Accepted the plea deal? Good. He nudged Damon, exchanging looks. His father had pulled through; no death penalty for them.

Damon smiled at him, but the smile was an empty one. A lifetime in prison. Life. Without Skinner. His breath hitched in his throat and for once in his life, he nearly wanted to cry. Nearly. 

Theon squeezed Robb’s hand, trying but unable to smile. Guilty. He didn’t feel as satisfied as he thought he would. 

The judge went on with the sentencing; with the plea deals on the murder charges, the sentencing had already been decided. Even with the additional guilty charges on the kidnap, rape, and torture of Theon Greyjoy, it didn't matter to the sentencing. They were going away for life.

"What's the matter, Thee?" Robb asked, leaning over to him. "You don't look too thrilled."

“He still looks like he’s winning.” Theon answered quietly, not looking away from Ramsay’s icy gaze. “Even getting sentenced to life in prison. He still looks like he’s winning.” 

He wanted to hit him, just like he’d hit Uncle Euron. 

"It's a front he's putting up. Look at Damon," Robb said softly. "See how bothered he looks? I bet you Bolton is feeling the same, he's just better at masking it. He's trying to get under your skin."

Theon did as Robb advised, looking over to Damon, at the wetness in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks. Was he crying? About to cry? He then looked at Robb, his boyfriend, the man he loved who loved him back in the right way. “Thank you for helping me. With all of this. I-I know it’s sucked. A lot.”

"Thee, I'd do anything for you," Robb said seriously, looking into his eyes. "Can... Will you just do one thing for me?"

His brows furrowed. “What is it?” 

"My mother and I have been looking into specialized therapists. Would you consider seeing one?" He looked almost guilty, and he felt it. He felt as though he'd gone behind Theon's back for this. "If it doesn't help, or you hate it, you don't have to stick with it. But will you at least try? We both think it's in your best interest. Yara does, too."

Theon shifted uncomfortably. “I-“ 

Ramsay would be in prison, along with half of the boys, and there would be no need to seek legal action due to anything Theon said. Not when the people who’d hurt him were locked up, already found guilty. He could see the silent plea in Robb’s eyes, and so he nodded. 

“Yeah. I’ll try.” 

"Thank you," Robb said, visibly relieved. He kissed Theon's cheek, fully aware of Ramsay's gaze burning into them, but he didn't particularly care. If anything, it made him feel better about it all, just knowing that Bolton was going away forever.

Theon let himself get lost in Robb’s eyes, barely paying attention to the rest of the words spoken, by the judge or jury or whoever was talking. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter, not when Robb was looking at him like he was the most perfect thing in the world, despite any scars or wounds or missing pieces. Ramsay was going away forever. He couldn’t hurt him, not anymore, not locked up behind bars. He would rot away with the images of Theon and Robb playing in his head, with the memory of their soft kisses and loving stares. 

“He was never you. Even before he hurt me, he could- he was never you. I always wanted you.” 

"Oh, Thee," he breathed. "I love you. He— he'll never hurt you again. Life in prison— 264 years!" The judge had just said that; with all the charges against them, Ramsay had 264 years in prison. Far beyond a life sentence, of course, and it was almost humorous but Robb didn't laugh. The Boys' sentences were a bit lighter, but each still was served a lifetime.

“Never again.” Theon agreed quietly, turning to look back at Ramsay and the boys. At Damon, who had actual tears on his cheeks- he was crying, Damon Dance-For-Me was fucking crying- at Sour Alyn and Yellow Dick, who looked furious and upset, and at Ramsay. Ramsay who stared back at him, and Theon didn’t see hatred in his expression. There was still the love softening his eyes, but also dark, wicked jealousy as he looked to Robb. His false smirk was faltering, and then finally turned into a glare. He didn’t look so confident anymore. He didn’t look as if he were winning this sick little game. Ramsay was no longer in control, not even of himself, and it showed in his expression. 

It was over. They were all being dismissed, and Ramsay and the three Boys were all being escorted out by the guards. They'd be in prison by nightfall; if they were lucky, they'd all end up together, but Robb didn't care much for their luck. He wanted them to suffer. If they ever caught the runaway Boys... 

He wrapped an arm around Theon's shoulders and pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheek. "You won, Thee." His Theon, so brave. Bolton continued to glower at them even as he was led from the room, but Damon merely stared straight ahead, not looking as though he was seeing anything, and the other two glared down at their feet as they trudged along. 

“I won.” Theon agreed, silent after that until they stood up to leave. He threw his arms around Robb and made a happy little sound before speaking. “What do we do now?” 

"I want to take you somewhere," Robb said, hugging him tight. "But it's a surprise. You won't know what it is until we get there."

“A surprise?” Theon pulled away after a minute, a little smile playing on his lips. “Well then, Mr. Stark. Let’s go.” 

"Mom," Robb called, and Catelyn looked up from where she was walking with Sansa. "We're going."

"Be careful."

"We will," he assured her, and Robb led Theon out of the courthouse for the last time, to his car.

Once outside, Theon couldn’t resist. It was sunny and warm and his boyfriend was just so irresistibly beautiful, so he practically threw himself at him and kissed him, deep, passionate. He was in love, so in love, and the man he loved so dearly was in his arms, holding him, looking at him with the same amount of love. 

Somebody laughed nearby, and Robb glanced over to see Jon and Ygritte, but he didn't pull away from Theon. Instead, he lifted him up so he didn't have to let go, and Theon moved to nuzzle against his neck, legs wrapped around his waist. Robb carried him to the car. Theon's warm weight was comforting against him, and he had to refrain from stopping to kiss him again.

“I would do anything for you.” Theon murmured, lips moving softly against the skin of Robb’s neck. “I-I know I already said it. But thank you. For- for all of this, for being here for all of this. For loving me. Thank you.” 

"I will always love you. I will always be here for you. Now, and forever. Hells, Thee, I'd kill for you. I'd die for you. Anything." He held him a little tighter, and he never wanted to let him go again.

Theon let out a small laugh, sounding a tad close to tears. He felt almost overwhelmed, filled with relief and love. “I never want to leave you.” He held onto Robb’s hand as his boyfriend placed him down in the passenger seat, reluctantly letting go, only to take his hand once again when he was sat in the driver’s seat. 

"You won't ever have to," Robb said. "And I'll never leave you." He brought Theon's hand to his lips and kissed it, before starting up the car.

Theon watched him fondly, letting go until Robb had pulled out of the parking lot and then taking it again. His hand felt as if it fit perfectly in his own, and he never wanted to let go. They sat in comfortable silence for a little while before Theon spoke up again. “So. Where are you taking me?” 

"You'll see," he said, turning off onto Squire Street. "It's not that much farther."

“Aw, babe, c’mon. Tell me.” Theon teased, squeezing his hand. 

"We're almost there!" Robb laughed, looking over at him. "Two minutes. Can you wait for two minutes, my impatient Thee?"

“Mm, only because you just called me yours. I’m a sucker for that.” He smiled brightly at his boyfriend, eyes glinting in the sunlight. 

"My perfect Thee," he said softly, reluctantly taking his eyes off Theon. He could see it now, nestled between a few small restaurants and a church. They cruised along, and Robb turned and pulled into the parking lot. "Here we are!"

“We’re going to lunch?” Theon raised an eyebrow, looking at Dave and Vos dinner, as well as a Davos Hut. 

"No, look—" Robb shook his head, hopped out of the car, and went around to open Theon's door for him. "Look," he said, pointing up at the building before them. Davos's Safe Body Art.

Theon’s mouth opened into a small ‘o,’ his eyes going wide. “Robb- you-“ He looked from his boyfriend to the shop, and then back at his boyfriend as he stepped out of the car. “Robb.” His voice cracked and he threw his arms around his boyfriend. No more Ramsay. The man was locked away, and the awful name scarred onto his chest would be gone too. 

"I know it won't take it away," Robb said quietly, "but you can cover it, with whatever you want. I already called and made an appointment, and you're set for whatever you want. The guy's a genius, great at everything, and he can draw whatever you'd like."

“Thank you.” Theon replied. “Thank you. Fuck, I love you so much. I- fuck.” He laughed, at a loss for words. No, nothing could ever really take it away, could remove that deep, awful scar- but he could hide it away, cover it, ruin Ramsay’s work. Replace his marking with one of his own. “Are you- are you getting one too?” 

"Of course I am," Robb said. He had brought a picture of Grey Wind, and the artist was going to do a rendering of him. "Come on." They went inside, and a young man looked up from behind the counter. He had a round, kind face and short black hair. 

"Hey there. You must be Robb and Theon? I'm Podrick."

“Hey.” Theon replied with a smile, pulling out his phone. He had photos of tattoos that he’d considered, things he’d wanted, and he and Robb had both decided that a kraken would be a good idea. A kraken, large and strong and powerful, free in the vast waters of the sea. It would cover the ugly scars on his chest. He turned to Robb, leaning in to kiss him before turning back to Podrick, sliding him his phone. “Could I get something like this?” 

"Sure thing! This looks cool. Where do you want it?" Podrick asked, pulling out a sheet of sketch paper.

“I-uh-“ Theon looked at Robb before turning back to Podrick and pointing at his chest. “Here, but...” He pulled his shirt off, exposing the ugly letters scarred onto his chest. “I want it to cover the scar.” 

Podrick's eyes widened, but he schooled his face into a neutral expression. "Over the name?" he asked, because there were so many scars. The name was the worst by far, with the others having faded somewhat. "That should be easy enough to cover. I'll just have to shape it."

“Yeah.” Theon nodded, ignoring the way he could feel his cheeks flushing. He reached for Robb’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He was relieved that Podrick wasn’t acting weird about it. He moved closer to Robb, leaning his head on his shoulder. 

"And you had the wolf, right?" Podrick asked, pointing his pencil at Robb. 

"Yeah." 

"All right," he muttered, bending over the phone and the paper, sketching out the kraken. They waited for a few minutes, and finally Podrick straightened up. "How does this look?"

Theon stepped closer to the counter, his jaw almost dropping when he saw the drawing. The guy hadn’t been working on it for very long at all, but it was... brilliant, really. The kraken was gorgeous, better than Theon could’ve imagined, and he was sure it would look even better on his skin. “Perfect.” 

"Awesome." Podrick grinned at them both. "Come on back, then. Who's going first?"

"He is," Robb said, nudging Theon forward.

“Just one minute.” Theon smiled at Podrick, who nodded and turned to go set up his area. Theon turned to Robb, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. He loved him, more than anyone in the world, and he was loved back. It was perfect. Everything seemed perfect, too good to be true, and yet... it was true. All of it. He was happy, loved, safe. Loved. So loved. He had a family in the Starks, four people who were practically his little siblings, and a boyfriend who was already considering marrying him when they’d just recently graduated high school. A boyfriend who he’d known and trusted almost his whole life so far, and who he’d know and trust for all the rest of it.

“I love you.” Theon murmured, smiling at Robb, looking into those beautiful blue eyes. Perfect. Everything about him was perfect. He was his everything. He almost thought he was dreaming. 

He’d been through hell almost a few months back, spending long hours alone in the dark wondering where he’d gone wrong, what he’d done that was so horrible to make the gods hate him so. But now, in the arms of his love, he wondered what he’d done to deserve to be loved so deeply by a man who was practically an angel. He looked into those blue eyes, at those pretty auburn curls, plump lips, and kissed him again. He was so warm. Robb would keep him warm, forever and ever. 

He was Robb’s, and Robb was his, from then until the end of their days. Theon was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.. that’s all, folks.  
> For this one.  
> We’ll start posting the sequel in about 2-3 weeks, and the threequel after that, then it’ll truly be at a “that’s all,” but..  
> thanks for sticking with us through 84 chaps. -m


End file.
